


Siren Song

by ironyruinedmylife



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Hartley also has no chill whatsoever, Hartley has another ability, Hartley nicknames everything, Hartmon, I now have to decide who he gets with, M/M, and a fucking brain and can hypnotise people, and has a plan, and he knows how to manipulate people, and he's hilarious, and sophie loves her stupid gay asshole son too much, basically he's a siren, brutal overuse of italics, death of a child, especially harrison, hartley strikes me as an italics kind of guy, huh cw?, in fact thats basically the plotline, in which hartley is essentially tony stark, probably Cisco, sort of like charmspeak in PJO, wheres the flute??, wheres the goddamn flute, yeah cisco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-04-12 09:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 32,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4474529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironyruinedmylife/pseuds/ironyruinedmylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or in which Hartley recieves another ability, charmspeak. He can tell people what to do and no matter what, they will do it, now Hartley is very intelligent, a genius, he would say, this means he knows exactly how to manipulate people. People like Team Flash. Especially Team Flash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The ability

 Hartley was laughing, well, he would be if it didn’t give away his hand. And _god almighty_ did he have a good one, for once in his miserable life, he was very thankful that everyone had once again underestimated him because it meant that whatever they did, whichever move Harrison made, he would always be on top. It was slightly frightening how _easy_ it had been to dupe them, twice, no less. Advanced to the point of painful hearing capabilities aside, Fate (what a fucking _bitch_ ) had finally given him something other than his intellect (which more often than not got him in hilarious amounts of trouble) that he could use to his advantage. He hadn’t quite worked out what had biologically changed, but he understood his new ability perfectly, it was _ever_ so helpful, his new advantage.

Now Hartley had loved music and sound since his parents had fixed his first defection-well, the first one that they’d noticed, his sexuality aside- and of course he’d been fascinated by tales and myths of sirens, beautiful creatures whom lured the captive sailers to their deaths with their stunning voices, and, after that, charmspeak, a thick layer of compulsion and charisma in a voice which could control the listeners.

So when the wave of various energy types hit him, Hartley had gained this ability, the Siren Spell, or Charmspeak, depending on how poetic he was feeling that particular day. He kept this one quiet, but it did come in handy when he had to convince the children under his care to eat, or sleep, or to _get the fuck back to school Jeremiah, I swear to god_. The charm of this neat little trick was that unless the action was noticed as abnormal by either bystanders or the listener after the event, you could not tell when you were under the spell. Hartley thought that he’d rather earned his little blessing, after all of the emotional fuckery with his parents, Dr McAssface and his hearing.

Speaking of his former lover, he and his little tag team were completely unaware that he was even a meta, let alone that he could _literally walk out of there as soon as he pleased_. Hartley allowed himself a satisfied smirk, as if taunting Cisco, who was standing on the other side of the glass, but that was all. He couldn’t afford to reveal his edge quite yet.

“If that scares you I can’t imagine how you’re going to feel when you open up this door and let me out of here.” He replied. And _oh,_ the _delight_ he would get when Cisco did, because he would do _exactly_ what he said. Hartley knew that he owed Cisco for the time spent with him when he still worked at STAR labs, for keeping up with him, for reminding him to eat and sleep when he inevitably forgot, for everything, so that meant he had to get both him, Caitlin and Barry Allen (bless the little guy for thinking that half a modified ski mask and some shoddy voice masking tech would ever hide his identity for long) as far away from Harrison Wells (who was certainly not the real Harrison Wells, at all) as soon as possible. And then he had to get as far away from them as possible, immediately, because no fucking way _in hell_ was he going to stick around for the ensuing chaos, he still had some self preservation, thank you very much.

So he played his little game with Cisco, enjoying the role of ‘spoilt bratty genius asshole’ as much as he had the last time he’d played it (the last time he had interacted with someone who knew who the Rathaway’s were) and immensely enjoyed taunting the tag team through the cute little surveillance camera, as though that would let them monitor him. He could rewire it to a loop in five seconds flat and had been able to since third grade, what kind of _plebeian_ did they think he was? He made a mind controlling flute (which he loved and cherished and had _absolutely not named at all_ ) at age sixteen, and what had their knight in shining armour done by age sixteen? Passed his therapists ‘Are you ready for the world yet’ test (something which Hartley refused to admit he had failed, multiple times) and that basically covers it. This cage prevent an escape? _Please._

He had however slipped up ever so slightly when Dr McFuckface had wheeled down to see him and _dear lord it was so obvious, why can’t anyone else see it?_ Harrison the Shitty Lover™ had preached something about regret, and his brilliance (it was at this point that Hartley zoned out for a while, letting his script for his role as Angry Rejected Twink Who Needs Validation To Live (Latin edition) take over the conversation until Dr Frankenstein 2.0 finally said something that made him angry, pulled him out of his haze, he could feel the layer of cool hatred and Obey My Fucking Orders thickening his tone when he replied, instantly regretting it as Definitely Not Harrison Wells™ tilted his head, eyebrows furrowed, and Hartley could not breath until his ex obeyed the charmspeak, wheeling away, and Hartley didn’t remember about his lungs until Dr Shithead was safely out of sight and earshot, his poor lungs sucked in a breath at a speed which would have made Allen proud, and Hartley did not know it was possible to choke on air until that moment.

After a few minutes of his life had passed by to the tune of wheezing, Hartley remembered something, _Oh,_ he thought, _Oh thats clever_. He thought back to the interaction, rewinding the tape in his mind until he could point out three separate instances where Not Harrison At All’s foot had moved.

Hartley’s lungs _burned_.

He turned to smile at the security camera. 

"This is going to be _so much fun_." He breathed.


	2. The escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hartley plots and employs various tactics to escape his cage. He enjoys this immensely.

Hartley liked _facts_. He liked statements. He liked full stops at the end of books and sentences. So he planned, he spent the next few hours in his cute little cell devising, revising and confirming every detail in his plan, all the while providing snark in various languages whenever Team Flash bothered him (a surprising amount, he was beginning to think Cisco was sweet on him, _oh what fun that could be_ ) and generally being the devious and devastatingly witty (Mick's sarcastic words which he now took _every_ opportunity to both prove right and surpass) Rogue he claimed to be. Hartley enjoyed his stay in the Flash's Villian Motel™, he enjoyed playing mind games with Cisco, prompting Caitlin to dig deeper on her fiancé, flirting with the Flash and viciously squashing any emotion whatsoever that Not Actually Paralysed prompted. It was a nice little trip down memory lane. But now he had work to do, he could no longer afford to waste his time in this cold little Lab. So when I Stole This Wheelchair next came round for a round of patronising conditioning Hartley knew what he had to do.

" _Would you let me out?_ " He asked slowly, letting a layer of Charmspeak enter his tone, and if he used some tricks from his days as Dr McTool's lover (batting his eyelashes, framing his neck with a demure head tilt and biting his lip lightly) then that was irrelevant. Even if it got the job done. Hartley watched as Not Wells 2014's eyes began to glaze over

"I shouldn't-" Hartley peeked at his ex from behind thick lashes

" _Please? Open the door, for me?_ " He asked. A few seconds later and he was out of his cell. He stopped to run a finger down Definitely Not Harrison's face, smiling at the look of adoration he was receiving

 _"Forget all about this._ " He commanded, before he scratched a red line down the doctors jaw line. "You're really sleepy now. _Go to sleep._ " Pretending To Be A Good Person quickly dropped off, head lolling onto his chest.

As Hartley walked out of the pipeline he did two things, he congratulated himself on being a good enough person to not murder Dr Creepy were he sat for all of the shit he did (his therapist would be _so proud_ ) and he also sent a long, slow, smug grin at the camera, tilting his head just so (his therapist would be less proud). Cisco was going to _murder_ him. On the way out he encountered several people, first he saw Cisco, who he quickly dealt with

" _You really want answers about Ronnie and Dr Wells, and you really really want them from me._ " He suggested. Cisco nodded dumbly

"Of course I do." He replied softly. Hartley felt a pang of regret for all that he'd said and done to this boy, this ray of sunshine in a very cloudy world. But then he remembered that he couldn't afford to have feelings, and that emotions were Very Dangerous and To Be Avoided At All Costs, and he buried that regret deep enough to be able to avoid it until he was lonely at four am again.

"Cisco?"

"Yes?"

" _You're tired now, go and find somewhere nice and warm and comfy to sleep. And have sweet dreams. Forget all about this._ " He ordered quietly. Cisco sent a slightly dreamy smile at him as he walked away

"You too, Hartley." Hartley watched him go. He hoped to god that Cisco still had his number somewhere. He then ran into Caitlin. Caitlin he told to wipe the footage of his escape, but to keep the footage of Why Would You Trust This Man letting him out of the cage, secure in the knowledge that since the cameras did not record audio, it would look like he'd seduced the doctor into letting him out.

Hartley laughed for a good five minutes about that.

He could not wait til he saw the pinched 'my entire damn super team thinks we're shagging' look on Get Away From This Man Immediately's face. And if he was right- and he was- he would also enjoy the look of 'goddammit Dr Wells stop getting all of my crushes' on Cisco's. He'd have to remind Mick to get popcorn. He _liked_ popcorn. Hartley then remembered The Plan and that he was _literally standing in the middle of an enemy base_ and Charmspeak does eventually wear off and laughing at Team The Flash Is A Terrible Superhero Name Without Context could wait for now (Hartley did not like this, he could spend a week happily laughing at his little jaunt around the Labs and how _useful_ the team had unwittingly been) however he digresses, back to Caitlin and her unfortunate love life- not that his was much better.

He decided to also leave his number in her back pocket and told her to call him if she ever wondered about Ronnie. She smiled dopily and wandered off to take a nap. Hartley did _so_ enjoy having minions, it made everything so much simpler. He picked up his gloves, threw the trackers placed inside them ( _Bite_ me, Cisquito) to a rather conspicuous spot on the consul. Just to add a personal touch (or a final 'fuck you', he wasn't picky) he left a little note beside them.

Thankfully the Flash wasn't around when he left, eyeing the buildings next to him with tired eyes, squinting through the sudden bright light. His eyes caught on a dark van on the opposite side of the road, he eyed it pensively as it flashed its headlights, tilting his head at it as he walked over. He knew the contents, he knew that they were here for him. And when he got into the passenger side, and looked into the back to see several children grinning mischievously at him, eyes sparkling with the thrill of escape, chattering on about how this was so cool, and dude _why_ didn't you tell us you were a _supervillain_ for a living? And when he locked eyes with the driver, slow smiles spreading over their faces as Leonard Snart flawed the gas.

Then he knew he could trust them.


	3. Check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team wakes up to chaos.

His head _burned_. That's the first thing he noticed, that and the fact that the last thing he remembered was two hours ago and the clock was not lying- or at least he hoped so. Cisco was stretched out under a desk somewhere in STAR labs, he was sure because he could see the logo blinking angrily at him from the wall, he blinked slowly, heaving himself up, he felt fuzzy, not the normal 'Oh what a nice nap I just had' or the 'god I need another year of sleep' it was another kind if fuzzy, and he felt slightly uncomfortable, like someone had invaded his privacy somehow. Then his ears registered the siren wailing 'pipeline breech' and Cisco stood there for a good five seconds, staring at an unresponsive strip of wall and reconsidering his life choices.

He decided that he should have made _better_ ones.

"Please god don't let it be him." He mumbled fervently. He scrambled out of the door and tore down the corridors at what he considered a rather impressive speed, he silently grumbled to himself that Barry would laugh at him if he ever admitted his pride. _Just because some of us can run at superhuman speed doesn't mean you're_ better _than me_. He thought. When he finally arrived in the main lab it was to see Caitlin and Dr Wells sat there with the same slightly dazed look on their faces. He glanced to Barry to see him staring at the footage, eyebrows raised. Cisco's eyes flew to where the gloves had sat

"Oh _god_." He breathed. Dr Wells nodded slowly

"Quite." He replied. Barry just blinked

"What happened?" He asked "You let him out, why did you let him out?" He growled, whirling to face Dr Wells. Cisco frowned until his eyes settled on the footage.

That _minxy_ motherfucker.

Hartley was such a little shit. Speaking of Hartley he really, really wanted to meet up with him, he had a feeling the asshole knew more than he was letting on. Cisco didn't question this new feeling. Dr Wells was blushing,  _T_ _hat's new_ , Cisco thought silently, then he hoped to god that Dr Wells couldn't read thoughts

"I don't remember the last few hours. I don't remember letting him out." Harrison replied slowly. Cisco watched with a dark pit growing in his stomach as Hartley sauntered out of the cage, _scratched his boss_ and apparently sent him off to sleep, all before stopping just before the door and demonstrating what a smug bastard he really was, swaggering out seconds after. Cisco glanced down at the desk to see the trackers he placed in Hartley's gloves next to a little note reading ' _Cute, Cisquito. Check, Harrison, your move.'_

"God I _really_ hate him." Cisco growled, but did he, did he really? Or was he just irritated by the lack of information he had? Because he definitely did not hate the puzzle Hartley posed, a big question mark in a world of exclamations. It was both fascinating and frustrating, trying to figure him out, he was like a riddle wrapped in an enigma all held in a snarky shell which Cisco blatantly refused to admit was rather easy on the eyes. But of course that was not affecting his judgement on Hartley. At all.

"He must have some tech that's affected the recordings because after that it's been wiped." Caitlin commented. Cisco shrugged

"Maybe he's a meta and we missed it." He suggested. Barry frowned

"Can't be, or he'd have put up more of a fight. Even if he was I can't see how he used his ability to do this." He replied slowly. Caitlin shrugged

"He's got to have put something in the gloves, some chemical to make us susceptible to suggestion." She offered. Barry nodded

"Sounds like him, asshole." He grumbled.

"I'll look into it." Caitlin hurried off to her lab. Cisco frowned. Somehow, he doubted it.

* * *

Eobard was _furious_. The little brat could ruin everything, Barry didn't rely on him enough yet and if Hartley revealed anything the Plan could be at stake. He should never have started anything with Hartley, but it had been so fun to watch him dance, hurrying to obey his every whim. The kid had been so _desperate_ for love, for any kind words or recognition it had been almost too easy to ensnare him. And god how he had enjoyed shattering him, breaking his heart and spirit, how _amusing_ to watch his little face fall.

But now, now his little game could jeopardise everything, as soon as a seed off doubt was planted in any of them, it was over. It was too soon for them to trust him enough to ignore Hartley. And that meant that he needed to be removed.

Eobard _enjoyed_ removing threats.

* * *

 

Now if only he still had Hartley’s address.

* * *

Caitlin's hands shook. She could feel the blood roaring in her ears and the room span, a slip of paper fell from lax fingers onto the floor. She sat down heavily, her head falling into her hands, heart racing in time to the speed of her thoughts. She pulled out her phone and tapped in the number, saving it quickly. She half threw her phone down into the counter. Could Ronnie _really_ be alive? Did he still love her? Did _she_ still love him? Why would Hartley ask her to contact him? He was a villain, wasn't he?

* * *

About ten miles away, Hartley Rathaway sat in front of his laptop, watching their reactions and he laughed and _laughed_ and _laughed._


	4. Advantage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hartley discovers yet another edge he has over team Flash

Hartley wanted to cry. Why oh _why_ did he think this was a good idea? Children were the devils best work (alongside himself of course,) and god almighty was Hartley having a hard time choosing between homicide and suicide because _so help him god_ if he had to wash child juice (how did their hands even _get_ that sticky? _How?_ ) out of his hair _one more time-_

"Mr Hartley, help!" Cried one of the little ones. Hartley sucked in a breath and prepared, he grit his teeth, but on his best parenting face and brandished a baby wipe at the child who dared to call on him not _five seconds_ after he'd cleaned up the Next Smallest and Most Loud's mess. The kid was staring at him, a pout on his face, a black curl limp with whipped cream dangled dangerously close to his eyes, he had gotten the cream all over his everything and Jesus Christ if someone touched him right now Hartley would _scream_

"Oh Joey." He sighed. Joey had the decency to look upset

"I'm _really_ sorry Mr Hartley, only I didn't _know_ it would be this sticky, please don't be mad!" He wailed. Hartley's face softened ever so slightly, he did like his kids, he liked the feeling of accomplishment when one passed their entrance exams because he'd helped them back into school. It made him feel like a Good Person.

He'd had a lot of fun watching the chaos he'd left behind in STAR labs, and was eternally grateful to whatever created him and his stunning intellect because if he had been just a little less intelligent, he would have not known how to hack their security cameras and this would not have had the three years worth of laughs he now had. But now he had a responsibility to the kids under his care. They'd tipped up at his door a few years ago asking for change, he had of course given it to them and let them wander off.

Before long however he recalled his own time in the streets in the weeks after his parents disowned him and felt very very guilty. So he chased after them, and demanded that they stay in his apartment for the night. His flat was very small and there was not enough room for all of them and himself so after a merry evening of screaming kids and setting out blankets and pillows and making mac and cheese he found himself kipping outside the door as none of them trusted him enough to sleep anywhere near him without a locked and bolted door between them. When he woke up he found his wrecked flat empty and himself covered in a blanket that had not been there when he had fallen asleep.

It became a routine of sorts. The kids would turn up at his flat and spend their nights there, and eventually they let him keep a little spot in his bedroom and more often than not he would wake up at two in the morning and sleepily tell the kid who'd had that nights worst nightmare to _cuddle in_ and and that _it would all be alright_. Then the couple in the flat next to his spilt up and moved away. Funnily enough, there was never a buyer who wanted a second viewing, and soon enough his gang of kids took over it, quiet and polite enough that the land lady didn't mind. Hartley would come home, cook something vaguely edible for the kids, make sure that they were all okay and that there was no one fucking around with them and then he'd collapse into a bed that was finally his own again. He'd also take them out sometimes, to the zoo, a theme park and in this instance Jitters.

Hartley cleaned up Joey and spent the next two seconds of free time _deeply_ regretting his decision to buy them all cake before one of them decided that it would be real funny if they threw a muffin at the wall. It was only thanks to a lifetime of dodging his fathers blows that Hartley had quick enough reflexes to catch it, right before it hit the waitress, who jumped

"I am _so_ sorry!" He sighed, glaring at the offending child. The waitress smiled

"It's fine, d'you want a hand?" She asked, gesturing to the marauding children. Hartley, already in the middle of catching a swiftly falling mug of hot chocolate, shot her a look that he would never admit was desperate.

"Oh my god, _please_." He didn't beg at all. The goddess grinned and set down her tray and between the two of them calmed the kids into what was for them, a stunned silence. "Thank you." Hartley smiled at her, finally taking a sip of his coffee. The waitress shrugged

"I'm just getting off my shift anyway-" Hartley started praying to god that she didn't want to socialise, if there's one thing his huge brain couldn't help him with it was talking to his peers without either insulting them or convincing them he was mentally ill. _Actually_ , he thought absently, taking stock of the last years events, _That wasn't an inaccurate assumption to make._

She sank down into a seat. Hartley's heart sank down into hell where it tossed its hair, sat down on Satans lap and said 'Whats up I'm fucking home'. Hartley's deep ingrained 'run away _right the fuck now_ ' sense (which he deeply regretted ignoring when he met Dr FuckFace) went wild as she began to speak.

Her name was _Iris West_ , and she was 25, a journalist. She used to like coffee as much as tea before she worked here but now she could barely stomach it. She liked Hartley's glasses as thought he deserved more recognition as a single father

"They aren't mine." He had protested, ignoring both the boost to his ego ( _damn straight_ he deserved more recognition) and the weird jolt he got being called 'father' (he should probably see a doctor about that). Iris laughed, her head tipped back slightly and Hartley could understand the lovesick looks half of the patrons sent her

"The fact that they're not yours doesn't not make you their father," she replied and Hartley blinked, _What does then?_ He wondered silently, before Joey tugged on his sleeve

"Yeah, little guy?" He asked. Joey patted him clumsily on the cheek

"I think you're a _great_ dad." The four year old commented. Hartley's heart (which had been enjoying a piña colada in hell) stopped. He'd never even considered that some of them may think of him as their surrogate father, it had never been an option, and for a second he had the paralysing fear of turning out like his father had, coming home drunk and beating them. But then the fog cleared, surely if little Joey thought so, and the rest seemed to agree if their smiles and nods were anything to go by, _surely_ he was doing a good job. Hartley shook the doubt off, of course he was a great dad, he was Hartley Fucking Rathaway, why _wouldn't_ he be great?

Iris looked at him and because she was clearly a very mature and sensible lady she not only sent him the Told You So look, but she also conveyed the message verbally. Hartley glared at her before she continued

“See my dad sort of adopted my brother, Barry, and he’s a huge part of our family.” Hartley blinked

“Barry?” He asked, a lightbulb beginning to flicker behind his eyes

“Yeah, his names Barry Allen, but I always thought Barry West had a better ring to it.” She replied. Hartley swallowed, this was the sister of the Flash, and _she didn’t know_. She didn’t know which meant that she didn’t know about _him_ and-

“Are you okay, Hartley?” She asked slowly, reaching out to cover his hand with her smaller one. Hartley nodded, a smile spreading across his features

“Grand.” And _oh_ , this _was_ grand. The lightbulb behind his eyes not only lit up, it blew, as did the thousands like it as his mind raced with the sheer _power_ this revelation gave him. Barry Allen’s sister, and potential future wife if the Flash’s overheard lovesick mooning and the look in her eyes as she spoke about him was anything to go by. Iris West, a _beautiful_ woman in every sense of the word, Iris West, who wanted to be _his_ friend. Iris West, the key to toppling Harrison.

Because what better way to the Flash’s heart than through his precious sister?

_Game on, Mr Allen._


	5. Definition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hartley meets Eddie, Iris and Hartley paint nails and revelations are had.

Iris and Hartley became fast friends, mainly because Hartley was having a hard time pushing her away like he'd done with Cisco and Caitlin, although considering the amount of missed calls he was having a _gleeful_ time going through from the pair of them, they were rather eager for his company too, apparently. Toying with them before the big reveal was _such fun_ , and he was determined to enjoy _every_ opportunity to mess with them. Iris however was a Good Person, and would of course never participate in such cruelty. Hartley rather thought she was missing out.

She _did_ however have some rather appealing traits, for example Iris was very good with kids, which meant that it became far easier to control his little troop of tiny minions when she was around. She also didn't mind when he was not into socialising, she would happily sit and read or internet shop in silence for hours when she dragged him around her house and later her apartment. It was when he learnt that she thought he too was a Good Person that he knew something was wrong;

"That is _not_ true." He protested. She snorted, almost jolting the bottle of nail polish off of her knee

"So is. You may _pretend_ to be all hardcore and tough-"

"I never said that-"

"But inside you are a big Disney watching softie. And don't you dare protest I've seen you with the kids." She waved her nail file at him threateningly. Hartley didn’t quite know how to respond to that, so he just let her carry on painting his nails black. He’d always been told that he was Awful, Terrible, A Disappointment, A Freak, Weirdo, and a whole multitude of other names, you name it, Hartley had been called it at some point, by his parents, tutors, passers by, journalists, almost anyone he’d come into contact with. Dr Probably A Sex Offender was the first person who’d actually been _nice_ to him, which was why Hartley had fallen straight (excuse the pun) into his trap.

Iris was perhaps the one person who had been unconditionally kind to him in far too long, which was why he was having difficulty with removing his emotions from the equation. It was hard to moves knights in chess when they brought you tea and did your nails, he mused, then thought that he _really_ needed to read more, his waxing poetic skills, once honed to the point where he could write three pages on the dust under his sofa (He’d been drunk and miserable, okay?) were now significantly lacking. Iris began to blow on his nails

“There, you are now sufficiently emo.” She smiled at him graciously. Hartley smirked at her

“I don’t think I’m quite done yet.” He rose off the couch and walked over to Iris’ box of nail stuff (Now he really needed to read more, he hadn’t used the word ‘stuff’ in a full year) where it sat on the table. He rummaged for a few seconds before pulling out a small bottle and settling back down onto the couch again. Iris laughed as he shook the bottle in front of her.

“Glitter.” She laughed. He quirked an eyebrow

“To show off the flaming homo, _of course_.” he replied, wistfully looking off into the distance “My parents would be so proud.” He murmured, pretending to wipe away a tear. Iris nodded

“Classy.”

“Aren’t I just?” Hartley agreed. She smiled at him, and Hartley really, really wished he didn’t have such an odd life, so he could be friends with this walking goddess without wondering half heartedly about her usefulness in removing Does Not Need Glasses from his annoyingly powerful position. Said goddess playfully slapped his arm, bringing him back to the land of the living

“Stop thinking and paint your nails, Hart.”

_Huh._

Hart. He’d never had a nickname that wasn’t hurtful before. _Hart._ He liked it, he decided absently, studiously coating his now ‘You don’t understand me, _mom_ ’ black nails in the Glitter of the Gay Agenda™. It was only when the doorbell awoke them from the peaceful silence that Hartley realised that Iris’ boyfriend, Eddie, would now probably be off work and oh _Jesus H christ_ that was probably him, he didn’t _do_ socialising with people that weren’t Iris or his kids, _abort mission, abort now _

“Hartley chill, he’s a giant teddybear.” Iris soothed. Hartley shot her a desperate look

“Can’t I hide in the closet or something?” He begged, then paused to consider the irony of his words, Iris giggled

“I think you already have that badge.” She responded, walking off to get the door. Hartley shrugged, staring at the floor

“My dad never let me join the scouts.” He mumbled before a hulking great blond mass strode in. Hartley blinked at him. He blinked at Hartley.

“Hi.” Said Great, Blond and _Terrifying_. Hartley shot him a weak smile “Are you okay? Your smile looks strained.”

“It is.” Hartley let it fall from his face. Probably About To Arrest Him snickered, horrifyingly broad shoulders quaking slightly. Hartley frowned, was that funny? He nodded absently, he was _hilarious_ , he walked into a room and people laughed.

Wait.

“Hart, meet Eddie, my boyfriend. Eddie, meet Hartley, my totes bestie.” Iris laughed at them. Hartley glared at her

“Please don’t _ever_ say that again.” He reprimanded. Magic Mike: Cop Edition raised his eyebrows at their antics, then Hartley paused. Bestie? As in, Best Friend? He felt his brain try to compute, Loading, loading, _stop stop stop_ , Error 404, Try Again? Relaunch. Searching… No results found.

“Wait, _what?_ ” He asked. Iris slung an arm around him

“Well Barry’s my brother, so that makes you my best friend.” Hartley blinked

“You mean that?” he asked. Usually when people said they were his friend they wanted something from him.

“Course I do, silly.” Iris ruffled his hair and Hartley decided quickly to try and relaunch the search when he was alone again, because he could not afford a breakdown in front of Blond Hulk

“Cute.” Masculinity Personified commented, lips thin. Hartley immediately understood

“Relax, Muscles, I’m gay. Also you could _easily_ snap me in half.” His voice did in no way come out higher at the end. Actual Ken Doll shrugged

“Cool. And I could, twig.” Wow, okay.

_Rude._

Hartley barely refrained from growling that he’d graduated normal high school at _twelve_ and had an IQ that was higher than Mr Perfect could _count_ , _thank you very much_. Reminding himself that this was Iris’ boyfriend and she would be sad if he made him cry. She thought he was a Good Person. He should try to be, for her. As it turned out, Not Actually Dyed Blond and Hartley got on like a house on fire, so with a lot of _screaming_ and loss of valuables. Namely, Real Life Troy Bolton’s wallet when he got super obnoxious. Iris cackled at them like the witch she _totally_ was and ruined Hartley’s fun by forcing him to give her boyfriend his boring wallet back, now complete with superglued on pink hearts (Okay so the kids may be rubbing off on Hartley, just a little bit) by the end of the night. As he was leaving, Short Haired Thor caught his arm and offered a smile

“You’re alright, Rathaway. For a nerd.” Hartley sniffed regally

“I suppose you’re alright, for a jock.” He replied. Iris snickered

“You’re both huge derps, oh my god.” She informed them. They both immediately shot back

“Yeah but we’re _your_ derps.” Then turned to look at each other, stunned

“Okay, favourite Whitney Houston song on three, one two three!” Why Is A Cop That Pretty demanded

“I will always love you.” they both called. Hartley eyed him through narrowed eyes before asking

“Favourite colour of vine, other than green?”

“Red vines!” They were rather close to yelling now

“What is theatre?” Literally Why They Exist On Coffee And Donuts Right? asked

“The vinyl of acting, _oh my god!”_ They both called, before hugging tightly

“Where have you been all my life?” Hartley asked as they pulled back

“Oh in another state being a cop.” Surprisingly A Decent Person replied helpfully. Hartley nodded

“So _cool_.” Iris shook her head, retreating back into the apartment

“Good _night_ , Hartley!” She called. Hartley grinned at Eddie Who Had Now Earned The Right To His Real Name

“We cool?” He asked. Eddie sent him a huge smile

“We’re cool. Goodnight.”

It was only when Hartley lay awake that night, blinking at the stars in the very early morning that it fully hit him. Searching, see all results, showing results for: Friends. Friends, definition: persons with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically one exclusive of sexual or family relations. Someone to trust. Someone who trusts you. Mutual affection and trust, two things Hartley hadn’t ever experienced outside his books or his kids. Iris and Eddie, they were _his friends?_ They wouldn’t leave?

_Huh._

_Time to make some readjustments to the plan, I think,_ Hartley mused as he grinned at the stars. _Maybe things are finally looking up._


	6. Mama bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hartley meets Joe, laments his life and eyes up a new target, namely, Captain David Singh. Good thing he liked a challenge.

They soon became a trio, hanging out together more often than not. Iris liked watching them dork out about anything they had in common because as she put it ‘Dear god, once you start theres no stopping you’ Hartley had huffed a laugh (You don’t know the half of it, love) and Eddie had ruffled his hair and on instinct Hartley had batted him away (not _more_ child juice, please god let him have washed his hands) unwittingly reminding them both of a wet cat. Thus began a new form of torture.

They called him kitten.

_Kitten._

Dear god could anything be _more_ degrading? He was a professional baddie. He made children cry and tripped old ladies for a living. And they called him _kitten?_ It made no sense. Although he did enjoy it when the nickname and subsequent petting of his hair (Jesus Christ, Iris, if you try and braid it _one more time_ ) made people assume they were one big hottie orgy. It was _hilarious_ , seeing the dawning realisation and horror creep up into their expressions. Speaking of horror, he needed to deal with the pair of nitwits he’d left back at STAR labs with Blow Up The Accelerator? _Me?_ No… because the amount of missed calls from them was getting ridiculous. For now, however, he had a rather more pressing concern.

Pressing because Joe West was _literally_ going to steamroll him.

Mama Bear was glowering at him in a fashion that he probably thought was subtle (bless his little cop socks) as Iris made herself some coffee. Hartley had immediately regretted agreeing to meet her father as soon as the words had left his traitorous mouth (She had stolen his glasses and Hartley _refused_ to wear contacts.) and now he was 67% sure Mr West- who was an actual cop who knew who he was because apparently Barry trusts him more than you Iris why didn’t you tell me he was another damn cop?- was about to murder him. Clearly he knew who he was.

Somehow Hartley wasn’t as pleased about this as he was the last time someone recognised him.

It was _probably_ something to do with the large pistol strapped to his belt. Yeah. Probably that. Bearded and Terrifying had almost broken his hand when he’d shaken it, Hartley’s already annoyingly pale face had turned the colour of the printer paper. Now Hartley wanted to run far, _far_ away, he was suicidal, but he wasn’t _that_ suicidal, thank you, but Iris had refused point blank to let him hide. Hartley eyed the door longingly. He didn’t _do_ socialising. Especially with overprotective Cop Dads that knew of his rather destructive tendencies. Who could _literally snap him in half_. And probably would. Hartley really, really wanted to run away.

“So, Hartley,” He absolutely didn’t jump a mile when Would Shoot Him Point Blank Without Blinking finally spoke “What is it you do, again?” Hartley raised his eyebrows. _So thats how you want to play_ , he thought, _fair game, old man._

“I used to be an engineer.”

“Uh huh.” Joe didn’t look surprised

“Til my boss screwed me over.” The Scariest Thing Since Bible Camp looked skeptical

“Oh really? And what do you do now?” In fact his entire demeanour screamed ‘Look at this pathetic waste of oxygen’ so Hartley decided to remove the cops head from his arse and introduce him to a concept called Not judging a book by its fucking cover, you _asshole_

“I look after homeless kids and work on music therapy tech.” Not _technically_ true, since Dr Actual Living Shit and his parents had ruined any career he wanted in the science field, still he was what he would call a freelance engineer (others would say unemployed and desperate) and was currently working on implants that would use sonic waves to calm a person down during a panic attack. Something both he and the kids could use. _Still_ , he thought, _Bite me, you old goat._

Yogi With A Gun blinked, apparently stunned into submission. Hartley smiled placidly, Game Over.

“I realise you may have heard a few things about me lately,” Hartley was about to risk rather a lot “I’m just trying to out Dr Wells for what he really is.”

God he sounded like something from a dumb YA novel that he had absolutely never read, what are you talking about? Iris Why Didn’t You Fucking Tell Me blinked again, before he gained a more approving look. Hartley let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He’d read him right. _Good, still got it_ , he thought absently

“And the Rathaway Corp building?”

“I needed to be captured, did anyone get hurt?” he asked, and this was the question where the answer would either break him or confirm that he was right. He needed to be right. He had always prided himself on never taking someones life or intentionally hurting someone, that was _never_ the goal. If he had he would devolve further into the mental breakdown that had been coming for months and that was something he could _not_ afford right now.

“No. What about Dr Wells house?” Gaining A Personality Beyond His Gun asked. Hartley swallowed, relief clouding his judgement for a nanosecond before he answered with a sheepish

“I may have some issues about him.” Some was an understatement. Slowly Earning Respect nodded

“No kidding. Fair enough, I guess.” he replied. Hartley smiled awkwardly for a beat, wondering why he had ever agreed to this in the first place for what had to be the millionth time by now. He loved Iris, he really did, but self preservation came first, yet another reason why he was a Slytherin ( _No_ , Cisco, they aren’t evil, do you know who Regulus Black is? Did you even _read the books?_ ) and why he really did not want to be here.

“Joe.” Called someone from behind them, they both started, Hartley whirled around to see-

_Hot damn._

No, _really_. Oh he was pretty, even if the nose was a tad unfortunate, and his hair was _perfect_ , neat enough to show care but just long enough to hang on to (calm down, Rathaway, not appropriate) and good lord his eyes were pretty.

“Captain Singh.”

 _Of course_ he was a captain, Hartley always was a sucker for authority. And perhaps if the hair was longer, and he was slightly shorter and- okay stop _right there_ , Hartley Rathaway, don’t you _dare_ tell me that you have a crush on- _no._ He couldn’t have. That was ridiculous. He could work with this.

“And who’s this?” Hot For A Cop asked. _An interested party_ , thought Hartley

“Iris’ friend.” Joe supplied. Hartley stuck out a hand

“I’m Hartley, hi.” He greeted. Managing To Pull Off A Scowl shook his hand gently, almost as if he would break. _A shame_ , thought Hartley, _I’ve always been something of a masochist_. Then he recalled all of his previous relationships. _Something was an understatement,_ he revised

“David Singh, nice to meet you.’ he let go after just a beat too long “Joe we have a case, pack up and lets go.” He nodded at Hartley again before storming off. Hartley watched him go then turned to see Joe staring at him

“I think thats the nicest he’s ever been to someone.” The detective pointed out before following his superior. Hartley smiled wolfishly

“Oh _really?_ ” he purred. A new game had begun, then, one with an entirely different set of rules. Sometimes, Hartley loved being a genius.

He knew _all_ of the tricks.


	7. A visit from a confused engineer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hartley hates both his romantic life, Cisco and Wells.

David Singh was lovely. A sweetheart, once you got past the ‘I dealt with five murders committed by someone in spandex today, _why_ is this my life’, and that only lasted the first ten minutes, thanks to Hartley and his _talents_. He’d always prided himself on his affinity for distraction, the stunt he’d pulled off with team Flash to mask his motives was his favourite example, although this particular event was a close second. David was now smiling at him, he had a nice smile, Hartley mused as he attempted to flatten his hair for what had to be the fifth time.

David batted his hands away

“I _like_ your hair, leave it be.” He commanded, _Finally_ , Hartley thought as he smirked, _We’re getting somewhere. I knew he was the boss for a reason._

“Sure, Captain.” he replied, raising an eyebrow. David blinked

“Stop that. Whatever you’re doing, stop.” He whined. Hartley tilted his head,

“What?” He asked slowly, running his tongue over his teeth. David groaned and shoved him slightly

“You’re an ass.”

“Yeah but I’m a _cute_ ass.” He laughed. David nodded and Hartley felt his heart warm slightly (finally some appreciation), perhaps this would work out fine. Hartley was secretly a romantic of epic proportions, he dreamt of holding hands and sunday mornings when everything would be alright, unfortunately he was also a realist and therefore knew that ultimately that was one goal that was not achievable. At least, not for him. Didn’t mean he couldn’t have fun while it lasted. He and David walked around the park for a while, and Hartley really, _really_ wished he could see a future with this man, but apparently even his imagination couldn’t stretch that far because all he could see was eventual betrayal and broken hearts.

Apparently Dr Jackass had ruined not only his career but also his dating life.

What a _dick._

He got home at around ten, having refused a walk home from David (what a _sweetheart_ ) and sighed, head clunking back against the door, silently praying that the cop wouldn't call him. Hartley was well aware that he was screwed up, and he didn't want to drag someone as nice as David down with him.

“ _There_ you are.” Hartley jumped around three foot off the ground, who the fucking shit was in his apartment, where were the kids, did he have to murder someone, _what the shit?_ Okay, _breathe_ , think. you know martial arts, you have black belts in five different types. _Take the bitch down._ These thoughts came, declared their presence before promptly leaving within 0.5 seconds. Hartley turned, kicked the person in the chest, swung himself around them and flipped them onto the ground, pinning them within a few seconds. Then the bewildered face registered.

“ _Cisco?_ ”

What the fuck.

How did he even _know_ where I live? 

“I wanted to check something with you.” The winded scientist protested. Hartley spluttered

“I gave you my number not _stalking rights!_ ” he growled. Cisco performed an awkward wiggle which in some societies could be considered a shrug.

“You weren’t calling me back. Also, you’re kinda heavy.” Hartleys response was half formed before he realised he was still essentially straddling the confused engineer. _Ah, right._ He rolled off him, still staring.

“I’m not that heavy. My doctor thinks I’m underweight.” He replied, slightly offended. Cisco nodded, sitting up

“You are, I said that to get you off of me. You should eat more.” He responded. Hartley glowered at him after the shock had passed

“Where are my kids?”

“The little ones? I gave them money for a pizza, and they’re _yours?_ I thought you were gay.” Cisco informed him, slowly getting up. Hartley blinked

“Of course you did. And I am, I’m so gay I sweat glitter. They’re adopted. Sort of.” Lies, lies, lies. If a social worker found out about his little strays they’d be carted off immediately. No one seemed to understand that kids who’d grown up in either abuse or the hierarchy of the streets would probably find it easier to connect with a lonely gay guy with depression and abandonment issues (and that wasn’t the half of it) rather than a cookie cutter, all american couple. However he digresses

“So, uh, we good?” Cisco murmured, sticking out a hand. Hartley eyed it nervously, there were always ties and strings that came with friendships, no kind words came from people without an agenda and he was done with only being treated like a human being when he was useful.

“So long as you’re helpful to me,” he replied carefully. Whoever said he was a hypocrite was _damn fucking right_. He hated it but while he was in this precarious a position he had no other choice, still, at least he was upfront about it, unlike a certain McDreamy And By That I Mean Nightmare. The pair of them made and drank coffee in silence. It was so _painful._ Especially with Hartley’s unfortunate little crush. Eventually Cisco got sick of being polite

“Dr Wells isn’t a good guy is he?” Hartley snorted into his coffee and immediately regretted it, if there was _one_ time when he needed his dignity it was now but _oh no._

“No fucking shit, Sherlock.” He chose to reply, as gracefully as he could. Cisco frowned

“What happened?”

No. That was one line he wasn’t willing to cross until it was safe to have that breakdown that was oh so close. He could not afford to deal with this shit until My Doctorate Is In Being A Fake Lil’ Bitch was gone, he and his kids were safe and he was alone.

“Nothing I want to discuss.” He responded as calmly as he could.

“C’mon, Rathaway, I-”

“What part of fucking ‘no’ do you not get? _Leave it alone._ ” He snapped, charmspeak seeping into his voice, knuckles white against his mug. Cisco immediately backed off

“Hey I’m sorry, man, I didn’t mean to pry.” _Well clearly you did_ , thought Hartley, _thats kind of the point of you visiting me, because it sure as hell wasn’t for my astounding humour and positively_ sparkling _personality._ “So who is he then? If he’s not the guy we know?”

“He sure as fucking hell isn’t Harrison Wells. I’d wager that he’s a guy called Eobard Thawne.” Hartley replied. Cisco blinked

“Wait, what? Who’s Eobard Thawne?”

“A descendant of Eddie’s from the future. Dude _really_ fucking hates Barry Allen.” He replied sourly, _I know the feeling_ , he thought. Cisco frowned

“If he’s from the future then how do you-”

“I have contacts.”

“And Eddie? As in Iris West boyfriend? You’re on first name terms with _Eddie Thawne?”_

“He’s too good for this world, too pure.” Hartley mumbled. Cisco stared at him, slowly putting down his own mug

“You are a sad, _strange_ little man.” He commented. Hartley shrugged, _Oh I know_ , he thought. Cisco was watching his every move like he was expecting him to leap across the table at any given second and strangle him. Hartley was considering it along with many other, more _enjoyable_ activities he could be participating in if he was that close to Cisco. He was of course never going to admit this anyone.

Because god knows how his last romantic counter had gone.

“Was that all, Cisco?” Hartley was _very_ tired, and really he could have done without assaulting and then having coffee with his long time rival. It screwed around with his emotional compartmentalisation far too much for his liking. Cisco eyed him

“Do you want me to leave?” He asked. _God please let me die_ , Hartley’s eye twitched, _Do I really have to spell everything out for him. Eddie’s brighter than this._ “Okay.”

Hartley was suddenly very glad that Cisco’s PhD was clearly in reading his facial expressions rather than any form of _science_ , because _goddammit Cisco I have spoon fed you answers from the day you ‘captured’ me and Eddie’s better at making leaps than you and he both has the looks and mental capacity of a puppy._

“You promise you’ll answer my texts?” Cisco narrowed one of his eyes and if Hartley tried _really_ hard, he could imagine that he was winking at him. He then pulled himself back to reality and nodded slowly

“Scouts honour.” He held up three fingers. Cisco smiled

“Good boy.”

_Jesus christ._

Hartley blinked at the closed door, then glanced at himself in one of the windows. He was blushing and his pupils were dilated, all signs pointing to-

“Well _fuck._ ”

Now he had _two_ problems to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tree1138 friend have some cinnamon roll references. Also guys I just really fucking love writinf this guy. I also enjoy making him suffer. So prepare, there shall be rough times ahead. Also I love david/hart more than I can possibly say. But Cisco.


	8. Collecting strays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris takes Hartley shopping and Hartley collects another stray

Iris was out with Hartley, shopping for clothes that were a colour other than black, Hartley _whose funeral are you going to?_ (He hadn't decided yet but Iris, _dear_ , you are becoming a likely candidate) She had dragged him around several stores, hushing him when he started moaning (Iris I _swear to god_ I'll bring out the gloves if I have to try on _one more_ pair of shoes) and making all of the decisions between ties that were supposedly all different shades of green. She made him try shirt after shirt and several pairs of jeans. Eventually his hair was so mussed he was getting funny looks whenever he walked into a shop

"It's because it looks hot." Iris had replied when he'd commented on it. Somehow he doubted it, he had the sexual appeal of a _sea slug_. Less when he was tired, and god almighty he could sleep for _years_ after this whole thing was over. He told her so and she just laughed, and Hartley mused on the difference between her laughing at him and everyone else.

Iris was _kind_ , she wasn't laughing at what a joke he was, how funny his peculiar face and speech patterns were, she was laughing about the fact that he told her he wasn't attractive. Like she didn't find that funny, like she thought it was ridiculous. He wanted _more_ friends like Iris. Then again, who didn't? It was when they were leaving yet another store that two people barrelled into Hartley's legs. He looked down to see one of his gaggle of kids, Jack, who was holding the hand of a battered, bruised kid. Hartley dropped onto one knee

"Hart?" Iris asked. He hushed her with a vague hand gesture

"Hey, buddy, what's up? Who's this?" He asked. Jack bit his lip

"I didn't know who else to go to." He looked like he was about to cry. Hartley hushed him, tucking a lock of hair behind a little ear

"Hey it's fine, what I'm here for, right?" He turned to the other kid, who was staring morosely at the ground "Hi there, I'm Hartley, what's your name?" Iris had knelt next to him, and held out a hand to Jack, who was beginning to sniffle, he fell into her arms and took the hand Hartley stretched out, still entirely focused on the boy in front of him. He looked about eight, his clothes were bloodstained and his black hair was hanging limply,

"I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. That's what happened right? Someone nasty hurt you?" He offered. The kid nodded

"My daddy." He mumbled. Hartley nodded, feeling his blood beginning to boil

"I'll tell you a secret, bud, when I was little, my dad used to come home drunk and he'd hurt me too. It's not nice is it, buddy?" He murmured. Iris blinked behind him, and placed her hand over his arm. Hartley smiled at the kid, who was peeking up from behind his bangs

"My names Leo." The boy whispered. Hartley smiled widely

"Hi Leo, it's nice to meet you. This is Iris, she's _real nice_ , and that's Jack." He introduced. Iris waved a little and Jack shot the boy a weak smile.

"Jack can take you to an apartment. It's _safe_ and _warm_ , there are kids like us there, and food, I bet you're real hungry."

"I guess..." Leo replied. Hartley nodded "I'm hungry, Iris' made me go _shopping_ ,' he wrinkled his nose and won a small giggle from Leo "I know, right? So how about it, Leo? Jack'll settle you in and when I get home we can talk about you staying or if you want to go somewhere else," Leo nodded slowly and Hartley smiled encouragingly at him

"Jack, take him to our place and ask Lily to help. She'll know what to do." He ordered. Jack nodded seriously "Good boy."

Jack and Leo ran off, clutching hands and waved goodbye to the pair of them. They straightened up and Hartley's hands curled into fists

"I'm going to _murder_ them." He stated. "I'm going to find them and _kill_ them, how the fuck do you _do_ that to a kid? How do-"

" _Hart._ " He stopped, and turned to see Iris staring at him, her hand wrapped around his, and slowly he deflated, letting her unclench his fingers. She blinked at him "You didn't tell me that your dad..." She trailed off. He shot her a look

"Don't you dare pity me." He muttered "It was a long time ago." She nodded, and laced their fingers, eyeing him with something resembling empathy. He'd always admired her ability to constantly feel and care for others where he could not.

"We'll kill them together." Iris stated. A beat of silence and then

"You know I'm talking about the parents, right?"

"Duh, I'm not _stupid_ , Hart."

Yes, he needed more friends like Iris West.


	9. Think

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hartley begins to unravel and recieves an unexpected invite- I WARN YOU THERE IS TALK OF SUICIDE. THIS CHAPTER DOES NOT START HAPPILY.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for talk of suicide, this is not a fun chapter, at least at the beginning

Leo had decided to stay with them, liking the support network, constant safety and the absence of fear over where his next meal would come from. Hartley had smiled, helped him set up a bedroll and had gone back to his apartment where he proceeded to _destroy_ the parents, using his contacts in the journalistic world (Thank you lord for blessing me with Iris West and her love for kids) to drag their names through so much mud that they looked like Dean Winchester in the first episode of Supernatural. He couldn't _wait_ to see the mornings papers.

His thoughts slowly turned to darkness, he ran through the Plan a few times, before inevitably his mind turned to 'Harrison Wells'. He'd been _so stupid_ , he _knew_ that everyone wanted something, he _knew_ that and yet as soon as Dr Smarmy had fed him some sugar coated lies and had singled him out as _worthwhile_ he had fallen straight into his trap. Hartley had _known_ that kind words only ever come from liars, or people in the same position (before they stab you in the back and clambor over you to further themselves) he had known that. So _why_ had he let it happen? Was he _that_ desperate for any form of love?

Yes.

And he _still_ was.

He had been broken by his parents, 'Harrison', people who'd _sworn_ to always care for him, people he'd _loved_ , who'd supposedly loved _him_ until he'd outlived his usefulness. And suddenly he was unsure of what to do. He could not rely on himself anymore. He could no longer trust himself to not fall for the same thing. What if it happened during the plan? What if it _already had?_ Did Iris and Eddie actually _hate_ him? Were they only tolerating his presence so they could get something from him? His breathing came quickly, fast and sharp. His lungs _ached_ , as did his chest. He felt tears dripping down his face, wiping them away with shaking hands

"Stop crying, _stop!"_ He mumbled frantically. He was useless, the plan would _fail_ , Eobard Thawne would _win,_ _he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe-_

His eyes caught on the set of knives in his kitchen.

His mind screeched to a halt. His heart beat out a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

It would be so _easy._ He'd tried it once, failed, edited, saved the reviewed program deep down inside. He knew how. It would take _seconds_ for him to just-

His phone rang.

Hartley blinked, the trance falling away to reveal a deep set fear in the pit of his stomach, would he really have gone through with it? It didn't bear thinking about. Hartley swallowed, he needed _help_ , he needed this to be over, _now._

The phone kept ringing.

Hartley shook out his hands and tucked away his emotions in neat little imaginary boxes that one day, would burst open and wreak havoc. But not today. He'd had his meltdown for now, and he could not have another one until the plan was complete, not if he wanted himself to be even vaguely useful. He _needed_ to be useful. He picked up the phone, Iris picture blinked angrily at him, and he rubbed his eyes as he answered

"Hey, Iris, what's up?" Please god don't let her notice.

"Why the _fuck_ are you listed as my sisters best friend, Rathaway?" Barry Allen asked.

_Oh fuck._

"Yeah." Annoyingly Hot replied because apparently now Hartley had not only lost control over his self destructive tendencies but also what he said out loud.

"Uh, listen, Allen, I-"

"I don't fucking _care_ , Piper, what did you do to Iris? Did you dose her up with the same shit you did when you drugged us?" Leather On Legs asked. He'd interrupted.

How _rude._

And oh Hartley was going to laugh himself to sleep tonight. Team Spandex hadn't figured it out. They thought he'd _drugged_ them. How very amusing, he mused, as he snickered slightly hysterically into his hand, phone pressed against his chest to muffle the sound, how _cute_. He was going to _thrash_ Needs A High Five In The Face With A Chair if _this_ was the best his team could do.

"No, Allen, I didn't drug her. She came for my _stunning_ looks and stayed for the _sparkling_ personality." He replied finally.

Thawne's New Chew Toy growled "I swear if you've done anything to her-"

"Oh _please,_ I don't need any help to make people like me. She's my best friend, and I'm hers. Leave off, Spangles." He ordered. He could almost see Sonic Fanfiction's glare. It was a lovely image.

"Rathaway-" But while this was amusing, Hartley was _tired,_ and he was not down with playing hide and go seek with someone who was a) In a leather and spandex suit. and b) not of use

"I said _leave it_." He growled, immediately flinching back as he realised his control over his ability was slipping like it always did before and after he had a meltdown. He could hear CW Hair's thought process switch,"I mean, _think about it logically_. I can't have done anything to her. You would know." He tried.

"I guess. I mean I would definitely notice." Tumblr's NSFW Dream replied. Hartley nodded, he was in his element, manipulating was his talent

"I really have just made friends with her the normal way. She made me go _shopping_ today." He grumbled. Fighting Crime In What He Thought Was Style giggled a bit

"Sounds like her. I guess- you know what, _fine_ , you're coming round ours tonight, then we'll see if you are actually friends." He hung up. Hartley blinked at his phone

" _Excuse me?_ " He asked the dial tone.

He had been asked to dinner by the Flash. Hartley pinched himself. Nothing changed.

Okay. He could work with this.

Even if it didn't make _any_ sense.

If Iris was coming, that meant that Eddie was coming and probably Joe. One of whom definitely (fingers crossed) like him and the other of which seemed to be okay with his presence. And they were both big enough for him to hide behind them if things went badly. If all else failed Iris' nails were _horrifyingly_ sharp.

Whoever called him a coward was onto something.

Hartley briefly wondered when his life became so strange before there was a sharp knock at his door. He eyed it cautiously, and opened it with finger that were still trembling slightly. What A Fucking Griffindor was glaring half heartedly down at him. "Hi." He greeted. Hartley nodded

"Hello." He replied. Everything He Hated In A Person smirked at him, before holding out his arms "What are you doing?" Hartley didn't really want to know.

"Hop on." The Flash Sounds Like A Criminal Offence ordered

"Excuse me?"

"If you're coming to dinner I need to run you there and I'll be damned if I can't make it the most humiliating it can be. So jump on, douche and get ready for the full Flash damsel in distress experience." Or A Really Bad Horror Film informed him. Hartley blinked.

_What._

Okay. He could work with this. He thought as he wrapped his arms around the hero's neck, being scooped up within a second

"I had a boyfriend who had a kink for this. Not surprising, considering that he was a fireman."

"Fuck you, Rathaway." Cisco What Did You Do To My Beautiful Suit replied cheerily. Hartley smirked

"If you'd like."

Whoever said being bad was terrible was clearly insane, Hartley mused as he did his villainous duty and made Central's Personal Spandex God blush every shade of red under the sun.


	10. Memes and dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hart is a huge memelord and I try out some Barry POV

Hartley was _going to die._

Existential crisis aside Barry Allen was going to kill him. Of this he was fairly certain, so when The Suit Chafes _How_ Are You Alive was running him down to Joe West's house, he threw himself a little funeral in his head. He even asked Literally How Are You Alive to make sure that No One Mourns The Wicked played at the real thing. Why Cisco, _Why_ had huffed a reluctant laugh and agreed readily. He was set down about a block from the house, he swayed for a second, reminding himself that eating was a thing he actually had to do for _exactly_ this reason, before straightening up, shaking out his hands and cracking his neck

“That was gross.” Commented _Why Why Why_ Hartley couldn’t be bothered to waste his wit and superb diction on someone who wore glorified tights

“Your _face_ is gross.”

Admittedly that wasn’t the _best_ response, especially if the amused look on Gryffindork In Leathers face was anything to go by. Then No Homo 2k14 jumped a mile and began to stamp out the fire growing around his rapidly melting shoes. Hartley saw an opportunity

"You must have stood on my mixtape." He snickered. Barry blinked at him

" _Please_ don't tell me you own a fedora." He begged. Hartley looked offended

"I have class, Allen, I use only the dankest of memes."

"We need to leave the internet _forever_."

"Probably."

They walked down the block in silence after that, studiously avoiding each other.

Hartley was an introvert, he did not _do_ social obligation further than please, thank you, hello, sorry and goodbye unless it was forced or with someone he trusted, so he was not particularly bothered by the silence. He’d spent a fair chunk of his childhood in silence and until he’d figured out how to fix his amplified to the point where no particular sound was distinguishable above the din (god he was so smart sometimes he even surprised himself) hearing, his world had consisted of _really_ fucking annoying white noise. Silence was a friend. Silence meant that no one could break him except himself.

 _Barry,_ on the other hand. Well, Heart Eyes For Justice was an extrovert. For some ungodly reason he actually enjoyed _talking_ to _people_ (Hartley shuddered to think) and was therefore finding the quiet atmosphere somewhat trying

“Hey, so uh, whats the deal with Piper, you haven’t done anything since that one time so-”

“I _swear to god_ , Allen if you don’t shut your godawful mouth soon I _will_ shut it for you.” Hartley growled. That was one of the few flaws in his plan, and if Emo Sonic had clocked his absence from the villainous world then Dr FuckNut had almost certainly realised it. Then there was a possibility that he could figure out his true motives behind the attack on Rathaway Corp. That would be _extremely very not good_. He’d have to step his game up if he was to win this round.

They came to the door, and Barry hung back as Hartley knocked confidently. Hartley silently snorted, Where’s My Super Suit was still wondering if this was all some elaborate trick but somehow couldn’t even entertain the possibility that he was a meta. The door swung open to reveal

“Hey, Eddie,” Hartley greeted, Eddie grinned and pulled the smaller man into a bear hug

“Long time no see, nerd!” He replied enthusiastically. Hartley let out an offended screech

“ _Edward Bartholomew Thawne,_ release me this instant!” He growled, trying and failing to prevent the thorough face squishing he was receiving, and the order came out as less than understandable due to the smothering capabilities of Eddie’s sweater. Eddie grinned and ruffled his hair, to Hartley’s disgust, and he frantically tried to fix it as soon as he was released

“Hannibal would eat your ass in _five seconds_.” Hartley grumbled as he righted his crooked glasses. Eddie sniffed imperiously, a habit he’d picked up from Hartley himself

“I’d like to see him try, also Bartholomew isn't my middle name."

"I know, though somehow it works for you."

Barry was watching in awe. He had not realised that the Pied Piper, terrifying villain- okay, maybe not terrifying, he’s like 5.6 and weighs less than Caitlin, so maybe: Slightly _Irritating_ Villain- and Eddie, terrifying overprotective cop boyfriend that he was, was apparently on hugging terms with said villain. How the hell _that_ had happened was beyond him, he hadn’t had a hug from Eddie until months after they had met, how long had Hartley had to wait?

"Hart? That you?” Iris came running at the smaller man who to his own disgust hid behind her hulking boyfriend, god, what had he become since he’d met them? A sap who got _noogied_ (what had his life come to? He hadn't been noogied since preschool) and had to correct his perpetually crooked glasses like some pathetic twink in a bad hollywood film?

That description seemed _worryingly_ apt.

Dear lord.

He _really_ needed to start reading again if that was how far his poetic thoughts had fallen, he could almost see the poor syntax and overuse of commas. He shuddered.

“Hartley Rathaway you get your punk ass over here.” She ordered. Hartley groaned

“Do I have to?” he asked because _dear fucking lord her nails were horrifying_. He’d personally witnessed their traumatic effect when she’d slapped some ass who wouldn’t leave them alone at a bar. Hartley was convinced that the guy would need therapy and surgery. God knows he had needed his shrink more than usual after witnessing that particular moment. Iris scowled at him

“Oh fine, but you’re helping me wash the dishes.” She disappeared back into the house. Hartley breathed a deep sigh of relief before he registered that last order,

_Hold up._

"NO, WAIT!" He scrambled into the house, leaving Eddie to laugh loudly and wander in after him and Barry to wonder when exactly his sister and her boyfriend had become parents to a lonely supervillain. Probably while he was being the Flash. He'd have to talk to Dr Wells about his hours if this was the kind of thing he was missing.

* * *

Hartley had clung onto Iris for a good five minutes, begging to be spared but the devil woman was ceaseless in her punishment. Namely, fishing about in lukewarm water that's as clear as mud for bits of abandoned food.

And the Wests only had one pair of rubber gloves.

 _He was going to die._ But Hartley had done far worse, so he graciously accepted his defeat, much to the amusement of the she witch who had cursed him with this fate.

"Hartley get off the couch." She giggled. He peeked through his fingers, where he had thrown his arm dramatically to his face, swooning down onto the squishy furniture.

"Leave me here to _die_." He moaned, turning away. Iris prodded him with her foot

"I'll leave all of the spoons for you-"

"I'm better now." He had sprung up, immediately whispering " _Please_ don't make me do the spoons."

The last time he'd tried he bent two of them beyond recognition and needed a towel he'd got so wet. Spoons didn't like Hartley.

Hartley wasn't overly _fond_ of them either.

It was then that his saviour, the godsend that was Joe West, a cop, and a parent and therefore a Responsible Person walked into the room. He and Joe had formed a sort of 'your daughter scares me help/ you're alright for a villain and you're only that because of Dr Douche and your parents, I shall look after you' relationship after around the fifth time Hartley was found at the Wests dinner table, flicking peas at Iris who retaliated with forkfuls of mashed potato.

"Iris stop annoying your minion. I'll do the spoons." He immediately sighed. Iris shrugged

"But it's fun."

"I'm _not_ her minion." Hartley protested "Wait, you'll do the spoons?"

"I'm not letting you _anywhere near_ our cutlery ever again." Joe stated sharply.

"Not a bad idea." He agreed readily. Barry shook his head in the corner If Joe liked him and there was apparently a Spoon Incident then he seriously needed to talk to Wells about his hours.

In fact Hartley seemed worryingly disinterested in any malevolent activity (other than decimating the cutlery drawer) for someone Wells had insisted was Dangerous and a Villain. Then he remembered that the mainframe had been downloaded.

_Ah._

Right.

That explains it then.

God they'd been played so hard they'd thought they were playing him. Barry huffed a reluctant laugh, eyeing the manipulative genius who had singlehandedly got them to essentially hand him the intel he needed _on a platter_ , then escaped as soon as he felt like it. Said criminal mastermind was currently playing cluedo with Iris and insisting that _clearly the victim committed the crime, Iris, are you blind?_ His sister was smiling fondly and Eddie sat with an arm around the two of them, complaining about the staff room coffee at the station ( _yes, Eddie it tastes like a corpse, we know, now Iris listen, Professor Plum couldn't have done it-_ )

He mused on how Hartley was leaning into both of them, animated in a way that he hadn't been either in Cisco and Caitlin's descriptions or during the 'capture' fiasco. Barry shrugged and sat down next to them,

"He's right, Prof Plum was clearly not guilty." He added. Eddie sighed

"Oh my god there's _two_ of them." He commented. Hartley smirked

"Please, I am a godsend and you both know it. And _right_ , Barry? This game is so ridiculous."

Huh.

Something told him that if he mentioned his revelations to either Cisco or Caitlin they would not be half as surprised as they should be.


	11. Shall we begin?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eobard Thawne is going to do something about the threat Hartley poses.

Eobard Thawne was Not Impressed. In fact he was capital P Pissed Off, and that reason was currently playing a board game with his ancestors and his nemesis. How the fuck the kid had managed to befriend Barry he had _no_ idea, apparently being too smart for Cluedo was a bonding thing. Jesus the past was _weird_. Usually when someone tries to kill you you don't form a cluedo team, then again, the little snot never _actually_ tried to kill anyone. In fact he seemed rather more interested in the information.

That meant that the whole 'capture' routine was all part of the plan, and although that would support Caitlin's theory of a drug in the gloves he had checked for that with tech far more advanced than hers, and there was no such drug present. Which meant that either he'd put something in their drinks or that-

He was a _meta._

With a siren call.

_Motherfucker._

Well, at least it explained why his future songs went straight to number one. "I can't _believe_ that I was outsmarted by a guy that hangs out with _rats._ "

Hartley's name had also appeared in the article. What a fucking pisser. ' _Hartley Rathaway did pause to comment, however,_ '. God Eobard missed his future. Where Hartley Rathaway was harmless fucking musician. _Why_ he had ever scouted the kid he had no idea, actually, he knew exactly why: the boy was pretty and he needed some vaguely intelligent company.

Also he couldn't keep playing himself at chess.

And then of course Hartley had to go and have a _brain_ , had to be an _individual_ , and while manipulating him to watch him fall had been fun, he had unwittingly created an opponent that was not only _really_ fucking determined to stop him, but one which was a total screaming genius and who had absolutely nothing less to lose. Karma was a real _bitch_ sometimes.

So in response Eobard did what he did best, plot evil plans. Actually plan was too nice a word for what he had in mind, so he replaced it with 'nefarious scheme'. Ah, that's better. He was going to remove the threat his little toy posed. And he was going to enjoy it immensely. Hartley was racing to take everything away from him, so he would do it first.

 _How to begin?_ He wondered, _Ah, that's right,_ he thought as he glanced at the article. _'Now if you'll excuse me, I have my kids to attend to, thank you.'_

 _Let's start with the children_.


	12. Collecting friends and influencing people

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hartley survived dinner, will he make it through socialising with Barry? Stay tuned to witness the nerd off of the century.

Somehow Hartley had been blessed by a particularly merciful deity who had taken pity on him and let him survive dinner, albeit with more carrots than he would have liked in his hair, although he had enjoyed the look on Eddie’s face when he and Iris had teamed up and shoved a spoon of peas down his shirt. Eddie had _not_ been impressed, and had a camera been present, he would have been looking at it like he was on the Office. Hartley and Iris had laughed themselves silly for a good five minutes while Eddie shook the small green projectiles out of his clothing, Joe had tried and failed to be unamused while Barry had essentially fallen off of his chair laughing at Eddie’s disgruntled expression, all of them still giggling ten minutes later.

Once they had calmed down Iris had dragged Hartley off to do the dishes, Barry tagging along after them to watch the ensuing chaos

“C’mon, posh boy.” Iris had wheedled as she tugged Hartley along by his shirt

“But _mom_ ,” he whined in response, dragging his feet “Also I’m _not_ posh.”

“Fine, c’mon, _pretty boy._ ” Iris amended, rolling her eyes. Hartley smiled

“Why is that an insult? Call me pretty boy, I’m very pretty, call me the prettiest boy you know.” He tilted his head and his eyes crinkled as he grinned in a way that he knew made him look really cute, a valuable asset on his quest to date all of the shitty men in Central. So far the record was held by American Dr Doofenschmirtz (did that make Barry Agent P? _Absolutely_ ), no one could quite compare to the emotional fuckery he had My Chemical Romance’d his way through during that time. When in doubt, Gerard Way had his back with smudged eyeliner and well written songs.

Hartley inwardly cackled as Barry Allen, who had earned the use of his actual name when he flicked a carrot at Joe, a task not undertaken lightly (Hartley had completed the challenge once, and had been under Joe’s disapproving glare for a good week afterwards), had visibly softened, even the _Flash_ wasn’t immune to his dimples.

Now _that_ was not a sentence he’d ever imagined thinking.

He and Iris had a routine for doing dishes, he would wash, she would dry ( _terribly_ , she would dry terribly and he would have to repeat the process for her) and they would flick bubbles at each other, Barry had perched himself on the counter and watched the entire messy process, giggling at Iris’ shrieks when Hartley gave her a face full of suds.

“What the hell was that for?” she had squeaked. Hartley gave her a flat look

“For your lacklustre drying. That bowl is _still_ dripping.” He replied. She glared at him, apparently unimpressed with his complaint, while Barry continued laughing at them from his safe spot on the counter. Iris glanced at him, Hartley raised his eyebrows at her, smiling slowly. They nodded and immediately picked up a handful of bubbles each and ran over to the unaware hero, dumping the suds over his head, rubbing them into his hair mercilessly

 _“What? Oh my god!_ ” Barry shrieked, leaping off the surface and ducking away from them as they cackled “You two are terrible,”

“We know.” They replied simultaneously. Barry stared at them, still trying to remove bubbles from his hair, and Hartley grinned, high fiving Iris who was sporting a matching smile, both sets of eyes glinting with mischief

“Are you _sure_ you aren’t related?” Barry asked slowly. Hartley shot him a flat look,

"What do you _think_ , Barry?"

“At this point anything’s a viable option." He replied carelessly. Iris shrugged

“He’s my soul twin, then.” She suggested, Hartley nodded, wrapping an arm around her

“Sure, why not?” He smiled, secretly correcting her offer to ‘ _evil_ soul twin’, because Iris was a far better person than him. Iris then gained that look which made all cower in fear, the look that said ‘movie time’

_Dear god._

Hartley began to edge away, desperately shooting Barry the ‘run away’ look. Barry of course, being the oblivious little puppy he was noticed nothing and Hartley suddenly found the answer to the ‘why haven’t they noticed Dr SuperShit’s shadiness?’ question. _Because they were all clearly as thick as soup._

Sometimes being the smartest person in the equation sucked _balls_. And not even in the sexy way.

Iris dug her nails into his arm, Hartley shot her a pleading look. She looked him right in the eyes as she demanded “Barry go and put on Up. It’s time Hartley experienced true heartbreak.”

Hartley almost laughed, _almost._

“Iris…” He whined slowly. She shrugged

“You can’t say no to me.” She replied heartlessly.

Banshee.

 _He_ was supposed to be the one with the siren call, even if it was really inconvenient when he first found out and couldn’t quite control it (after he’d told a particularly insistent landlord to ‘ _go away_ ’ he’d never seen him again), it was so unfair that Iris had his ability without even being a meta. Still, Up was the lesser of two evils, she could have easily made him watch Marley and Me (he didn’t cry every time, why would you think that?) and god knows what would have happened if he’d experienced that trauma in front of Barry Allen.

So he went along with it, settling down on the couch with Iris and Eddie, feeling alarmingly like their small child, still, at least Barry was in the same position. He appreciated the disgruntled look on the heroes face when Iris started playing with his hair.

Five minutes in he was _not crying_. There was an adventure book in his eyes.

An hour in, watching Carl dismayed as he finds out his childhood hero was in fact the villain and suddenly the movie wasn’t quite so funny any more. Hartley blinked rapidly and grit his teeth, he was _over it_. He was, really. But watching the same betrayal creeping onto the characters face as it had onto his features that day, it was hard. It made him Feel.

Feelings were _not allowed._

Hartley glanced at Iris, Eddie and Barry, who were falling asleep on each other. At Iris, who smiled in her sleep, fingers intertwined with Eddie’s and her head resting on Hartley’s shoulder. At Eddie, who trusted him to let her. At Barry, whose compassion could end him. Perhaps Feelings had crept in anyway. He couldn’t really complain, he mused as the characters played out their charade, he was happier than he’d been for a while.

At the end of the film Hartley eased himself up, propping Iris up on a cushion and creeping away so as not to disturb the sleeping group. He heaved a quiet sigh as he grabbed his jacket and stuffed his feet into his shoes, grabbing his keys from the counter and tiptoeing towards the door, he _absolutely did not_ glance back at the puppy pile with _any_ sort of longing. In fact his expression was as cold as his heart as he stepped into the chilly evening air, hissing as the cold crept into his clothes, settling as it always did into his core. Then he remembered how he’d got there.

Well _shit._

“Why is this my life?” he asked as he began the five mile trek back to his apartment, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He got about a block before he was scooped up by someone who looked suspiciously like a hero who should have been asleep right now, were you watching me, Mr Allen?

“Need a lift?” Asked Barry. Hartley rolled his eyes

“Please.”

Well, at least it was warmer, if slightly awkward to be held against the chest of someone who he had considered no more than a pawn in an endless game of chess until this evening. Barry dropped him off at the entrance to his building,

“Come on then.” the hero demanded. Hartley frowned

“Excuse me?”

“I’m walking you upstairs.” Barry seemed very self assured in this statement, Hartley blinked at him

“I’m _perfectly_ able to walk up some stairs, Allen.” He replied testily

“I know.” Barry was being tiresome, then. Fun.

“Okay then, spangles, lets go.” They got about half a floor up the stairs before Barry decided that he would inflict on Hartley yet another cruel and unusual punishment: _Small talk_

“So you seem pretty awesome for a guy that blew up some buildings and tried to kill me.” Dear god.

“Thank you, I suppose.” Hartley responded carefully. He didn’t mention that had he actually wanted Barry dead the hero would be six feet under months before he even thought in the vague direction of Hartley. Barry nodded and smiled

“You don’t seem all that interested in evilness.” It was only getting worse then, joy

“I’m not.”

“So why don’t you join team super?” _Team super?_ Hartley was having a hard time not taking his head off with the very promising looking wall. He considered his options, he couldn’t very well say ‘because your boss, my scumbag ex would _literally murder me_ and I can’t afford that’

“You know Len Snart?’ Barry nodded “We’re friends. He asked me to join the Rogues a while back.”

“And what did you say?” Barry looked like he knew the answer. Hartley mumbled something vague in response. Barry frowned “I’m sorry?”

“I said ’sounds gay, I’m in.” Hartley blurted. Barry closed his eyes and breathed in deeply through his nose, he then sent a look that said ‘good god’ to the wall. The pipes behind the wall creaked appreciatively. Hartley supposed it could be because they were old and rusty but he was a poet (and Toy Story had convinced him inanimate objects were actually alive) so the pipes were sympathetic.“But I make sure they don’t hurt anyone, I plan the plans so nothing too bad goes down.”

“So you're essentially Malfoy.” Hartley blinked

“I _love_ that guy. Y’know, I dyed my hair blond once and I looked just like him-”

“Acted like him too I’d bet.” Barry added helpfully. Hartley blinked

_Rude._

“Fight me, Allen.” He replied, Barry sent him an ‘oh really’ look

“You’re like 5.6, you’re tiny. I’d squash you, so bite me, _nerd_.” Why did everyone call him that?

He wasn’t a nerd.

 _Cisco_ was a nerd.

“You wound me, Barry.” Hartley clutched his chest as he turned his key in the lock. Barry smiled

“I’ll see you later, then.” He prodded. Hartley sent him a confused smile

“Sure.” He agreed slowly. Barry grinned

“Goodnight, Hartley.”

“Night, Barry.” With that the speedster ran off, leaving Hartley to stare after him

 _I seem to have collected another friend._ He thought as he entered the flat.


	13. A Death In The Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be painful and potentially triggering. This one isnt happy, my friends.

Cisco was not best pleased, in fact he was really rather pissed off and could have done without this situation. But _apparently_ Hartley was determined to be a dick (as per fucking usual) and ignore his calls, texts, emails, even a goddamn _letter_ , why he was so obsessed with contacting his ex lab partner he had _no_ idea (No, it was nothing to do with the fact that Hartley was so _irritatingly_ attractive, smart, funny- okay Cisco _stop_ you’re not pining) but he was not a guy to miss an opportunity and he just _knew_ that Hartley knew more than he was letting on. So here he was, trying to break down the door of his old coworker and suddenly remembering that he had a key (the kids he had met before, they knew him as the nice pizza guy from when Hartley still had decent clothes, they’d given him the key after Hartley had traded spanish insults with him over an american pizza) and therefore his probably broken foot had been for nothing.   
  
“God _dammit_ ,” He groaned as he fished it out of his wallet, jamming it in the lock “Hey asshole, do you not own a _fucking pho_ -”  
  
Oh.  
  
Okay then.   
  
Hartley was fast asleep slouched on the kitchen table clutching a coffee mug with limp fingers, drooling on a story book, two small kids using him as a pillow. Cisco glanced at the clock, one in the afternoon, an _odd_ time to be napping Cisco mused absently, still, he was rather sweet when he wasn’t being awake. Probably because it was _hard_ to be such a dick when he was asleep.  
  
“Who are you?” Someone asked from behind him. Cisco jumped a mile and reconsidered his life choices in a millisecond “What are you doing in Hartley’s apartment? Are you stalking him?”   
  
“What? _No!_ ” Yes Cisco because that sounded _oh_ so convincing yes _well done_. Jesus now this kid was going to _skin_ him and would you look at that he even has a knife. _Great fucking job_ Cisco, your tombstone will read ‘Loving friend, son and _stalker_ ’, just _fantastic._   
  
“I swear, you little punk-”  
  
“Jeremiah?”   
  
Oh thank god. Cisco didn’t think he’d ever been so relieved to see Hartley awake. Hartley who had clear bed head, Hartley who’s morning voice should _not_ be that attractive, Hartley who just needed to fucking _stop_ with his pretty and his smarts, thank you.   
  
“Cisco? What’re you doing here?”   
  
‘You _know_ this psycho?” Jeremiah asked carelessly sticking the knife upright in the table, Cisco watched it quiver for a moment, he gulped  
  
“When was the last time you used your phone?” He asked and no his voice did not shake at all  
  
“Oh fuck, I’m sorry Cisquito-”  
  
“You guys are cute but Hart we have a problem.” Jeremiah cut in quickly, leaning forewords. Hartley blinked blearily, sitting up quickly  
  
“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you at school?” He asked slowly. Jeremiah bit his lip  
  
“I took Jack and Leo to a park for lunch break, I only looked away for a _second_ , Hart, I _swear!_ But they were gone and there was this guy in a suit and he told me to give you this,” He explained quickly. Hartley froze, and Cisco could almost see his mind sharpening, his pulse quickening  
  
“Was the guy about six foot, blond hair, nasal voice?”   
  
“Yeah, how did you-” Hartley shot up, grabbed the card from Jeremiah’s lax fingertips and grabbed a mobile off of the counter, dialled the number. There was a furious clench to his jaw and Cisco just knew that someone was going to get badly hurt.   
  
"Hello, I heard you were looking for me again." Hartley kept his voice even and cold, clearly another superpower he possessed, and suddenly Cisco remembered how annoyingly calm and disinterested Hartley had been when they'd traded insults, looking back on it he clearly just missed how affected his coworker had been. _Huh._  
  
"Ah, Mr Rathaway, we hadn't heard back from you the last time we contacted you, so we decided to sweeten the deal." A voice that sounded like how Cisco had imagined Lucius Malfoy's replied carefully. Hartley's face was worryingly blank  
  
" _Ever_ so sorry, I'm afraid I found myself rather _occupied_. Is there anywhere we could meet to discuss your offer?" There it was again, the look of murder and the emotionless voice, suddenly Cisco was rather afraid, what was Hartley capable of really? Did any of them even have a vague inkling?   
  
_No._  
  
No they didn't.   
  
"But of course. There is an address on our card, I trust you'll find it. Meet us at your leisure, we're already here." Lucius Malfoy's muggle twin informed them offhandedly. Hartley smirked  
  
"You will keep the children alive, I value them _unharmed_." He let them make whatever they wanted of that statement, hanging up immediately. He grabbed the card, it was blank save for the number, he ran his fingertips over it, pausing at a particular spot  
  
"It's in Braille. At the docks, warehouse number five." Hartley grabbed his jacket, then opened a cupboard  
  
"Wait you can read Braille?" Cisco asked. Hartley turned slightly, a violent glint in his eye  
  
"Cisco, there is _nothing_ I cannot do." He replied. And for once, watching as out of the cupboard emerged every weapon known to man which then disappeared into somewhere on Hartley's person, for once, he believed him.   
  
"Jeremiah you're in charge, let them know what's happened, I'll be back soon enough. Cisco with me." He ordered as he stalked out of the flat  
  
"But-"  
  
" _Now._ "   
  
-  
  
They arrived at the warehouse half an hour later, Cisco falling into place at Hartley's side easily, a deafening silence reigned, its heavy crown burdening it's tired head as every unhappy ending to this situation went unsaid. Hartley was angry, a dry hate fuelled numb sort of angry. The burning murderous fury that didn't let go until sleep accepted you again. Hartley was ready to _murder_ someone. The man with the horrible voice was waiting for them, an expensive looking phone in his hand. He smiled greasily at them, arms spread wide  
  
"Mr Rathaway, and _who_ is this?" He asked, gesturing to Cisco.   
  
"A particularly skilled associate of mine, insurance if you will." Hartley replied smoothly. Cisco shot him a look, he was wearing possibly the least threatening clothes and had the bravery of a chicken nugget, how was he supposed to look 'skilled'. "He has eclectic taste."   
  
Wow, _rude._  
  
Still, it seemed to work, as Mr Oily chuckled   
  
"I do apologise about the method of our own insurance, they're perfectly safe however and I can assure you your friends...talents won't be necessary." He commented as he wrapped an arm around Hartley's shoulders. Hartley smiled absently  
  
"From him? No, probably not. Myself however..." He trailed off before performing some rather impressive martial arts to get Mr Pimple on the ground, snivelling around a split lip in the space of about five seconds "Have I not made it quite clear already that I am _not interested?_ " Hartley spat, before stomping on the mans face and walking into the compound. Cisco blinked after him  
  
"You're terrifying, you know that." He called  
  
"I'm aware."   
  
Hartley walked calmly into the warehouse, pulled out a gun and shot a few times into the air  
  
"Gentlemen, ladies, anything else or inbetween, your attention please." He began, a cruel smile forming on his face "Your boss has betrayed you, gave me his phone with _all_ of your details on them. Now I am a forgiving man, you provide my children, safe and sound and you _may_ get out of this alive."   
  
Cisco watched as the calculation was made  
  
"Two cells down that corridor, on the left." One guard blurted. Hartley grinned mercilessly  
  
"See this guy has the right idea." He informed them quietly "Show me them, I know you have surveillance."   
  
A few of the guards handed him tablets, one of Jack staring at the wall, and one of Leo twiddling his thumbs in a corner. Hartley nodded, a slow breath of relief fighting its way out of his lungs. Cisco's heart stopped pounding quite so hard   
  
"See? They're fine, can we- can we _go_ now?" One asked. Hartley shot him a sharp toothed smile before stalking off down the aforementioned corridor, Cisco decided to reply for him  
  
"That means no." He answered. He found Hartley at the first of two cells, two quivering guards in front of him  
  
" _Open the door._ " Hartley ordered calmly. Cisco felt that same heavy feeling sink into his bones as when he'd woken up to find Hartley missing. The guards wouldn't open the door that easily, and they would _not_ look so starry eyed while doing it  
  
"You're a meta." He murmured. Hartley shrugged  
  
"Why do you think they were so interested?" He replied carelessly, before he darted into the cell, immediately grabbed by Leo, who hit him with small fists  
  
"Go _away!_ Leave Mr Hartley alone!" The kid demanded. Hartley bent down, grabbing his arms gently "Hartley?"   
  
"Bonjour mon petit," he replied. Leo burst into tears and clung onto him   
  
"They came out of nowhere, a-and they kept shouting at J-Jack he wouldn't l-let them take me a-way." He sobbed. Hartley rubbed his back and hushed him   
  
"You've been so _brave_ , little lion, everything's going to be alright," he cooed gently. Leo his his face in Hartley's neck  
  
"But they- they wouldn't stop _hitting_ him and n-no he won't t-talk to me anymore," he whispered. Hartley stilled, eyes widening as a stone dropped into his stomach  
  
"Hey now, go with Cisco, nice pizza guy remember? Go with him." He sent the sniffling kid over to Cisco, who scooped him up quickly "Take him back to my place, look after them, Cisco."   
  
Cisco bit his lip "Hartley, I-"  
  
"I know. I'll text you." Cisco began walking towards the exit, past the stunned guards and out, wondering how he would break the news to the rest of the kids. Hartley meanwhile slowly got to his feet and walked to the other cell door  
  
"What did you do to him?" He asked quietly. The two guards sweated nervously  
  
"We didn't mean to- I mean he just wouldn't come quietly-" Hartley heaved in a deep breath. He opened the door.  
  
Jack was propped up against the wall, eyes glassy and chest unmoving. Hartley felt himself sink to his knees next to the battered little body, he saw every cut, every bruise, everything these men had done to his precious little boy. Jack, who was _only ten_ , Jack, with his heart of gold, who saw the world with so much _compassion_ , who had so much kindness in his little heart, Jack, who deserved _so much more_. Hartley saw every memory he had with Jack play in front of him, every trip to the park, every story, every hard moment, every cherished memory. The first time he’d met Jack, so hurt and alone and so _trusting_ , that game of chess they'd never quite finished, the first time he'd come home to be greeted by a report card full of A's and a proud grin.   
  
Jack who was dead.   
  
Jack who would _never_ smile again, Jack who would never get to eleven, Jack who would never finish school.   
  
Hartley _screamed._   
  
His soul _burned_ , his lungs ached, his heart was shattered into dust, and he _couldn’t breathe_. He heard windows shatter, he felt the guards behind him fall dead, he felt like someone had pulled out his being, his soul and _twisted_ , _stomped_ on it, shattered his very core and then _shoved_ it back inside his body. He could feel a wall of pure white hot rage and shattered pain pulse out of him, and yet he couldn’t hear himself. He could only hear the rushing of his blood in his ears and the last thing Jack had said to him playing on repeat, over and over again.  
  
 _Bye, da, love you!_  
  
Hartley drew in a shaking breath, jaw clenching, _love you,_ they had made him believe that he could win, taken his trust and manipulated him with it, _I love you_ , they had murdered his little boy in cold blood. And they would pay for it. Hartley dragged himself through the compound, whispering a promise to Jack’s broken body that _he would come back, and not to look, Jack, da’s going to be a really bad man, I’m so sorry,_ he walked into the room full of guards, who were stunned, standing stock still as he stormed towards them  
  
“ _Get out of my way._ ” He growled, some were flung backwards, some fell to dust, one he grabbed by the neck, hauling him outside, he grabbed the slimy man in charge and threw them both against the wall,  
  
“Don’t-” one began before Hartley pressed his nails into his trachea   
  
“You gave me hope and then you _took it away_ ,” he growled lowly “That is enough to make _anyone_ dangerous, _god knows_ what it will do to me.”   
  
He watched the fear morph into pure terror and he let a knife fall into his hand.

  
“Now let me be _crystal clear_ ,’ He murmured, dragging the blade across their necks slowly, just hard enough to cause a few drops of blood to trickle down into their collars. “I am _allowing_ you your lives only so you can tell your little buddies of what happens when you fuck around with _my family_. They. Are. Defended. And next time I will not let you keep so much. Basically, _run._ ”   
  
The two scarpered, their bodies working faster than their minds to obey him. Hartley let himself fall against the wall of the warehouse, his head falling into his hands, an endless string of apologies flying over his lips before he dragged himself back to Jack’s cell. Where he finally let himself cry, he sobbed for a few hours before he just sat and stared, holding Jack’s limp hand, the numbness in his chest spreading until he couldn’t feel anything.  
  
It was dark by the time that Barry finally arrived and dragged him away, screaming that he needed to say _goodbye, please, Barry, I can’t leave him there, please-_  
  


* * *

Far away, Eobard Thawne watched, musing through guffaws of laughter that a few thousand pounds to a dubious mercenary group was definitely worth it if _this_ was the result.  
  
Target neutralised.


	14. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hartley is okay, but only okay. Mentions of child death and suicidal thoughts. Hartley's maybe friendship with Cisco kind of progresses

It took time. It always did. First there was the downward spiral, in the beginning he could barely hold it together and it was the first time since Wells that he’d seriously considered just jumping off of the balcony. But he wasn’t going to do that, he couldn’t, he knew it would be a waste, he knew he could ruin his kids lives, he knew it would never end well. So he didn’t. Didn’t stop him from fantasising though. Iris was of course a godsend and he honestly didn’t know if he could have pulled himself out of it without her by his side, a silent comfort, a friend. She didn’t pretend to know what it was like, she didn’t pity him when he finally got back to his flat, exhausted, bloodied and carrying the card of a funeral director, she just swallowed and hugged him. For once there was someone who didn’t give up on him.  
  
For once someone cared enough to stay.   
  
It helped. Iris brought him back to life, teaching him how to function again and letting him feel comforted without being crowded, she taught him to let go of the fear that it was _all his fault_ , that there was blood on his hands and that his kids were no longer safe with him. The kids themselves were a huge help, they were calm, they dealt with it healthily because Hartley had made sure they understood that his way of dealing with his emotions was not, and not to follow his example under any circumstances because _so help him god if one of them wound up like him_. They were his gravity, they held him down when he thought he would get swept away.   
  
And now? Now Hartley still felt like he was drowning sometimes, and still had to be dragged out of his trance sometimes, but he was working with it. He could look at them again without feeling guilty, he could _breathe_ again. And if sometimes he still felt like someone had a hold of his heart and was _squeezing_ then that was okay. Because it was normal. Because _he would be okay._   
  
He had to be.  
  
“Hey, are you okay?” Iris asked one morning, when she found him and his kids at Jitters, squabbling over the last slice of red velvet cake. Hartley smiled at her, he’d been practicing and it was slowly working, he was remembering how to be happy again.   
  
“Yeah, actually. Leo wants to go to the zoo, wanna come?” he replied softly. Leo had had a really rough time, he was quieter now, but he was still brave, still Hartley’s little lion, currently he was drawing a picture of a snake in his notebook and nattering away to Jeremiah, who was enjoying his weekend a little too much, Hartley mused, eyeing the twins, who he had just taught to do a trick with his switch blade.   
  
“Sure thing, kitten, shall I call Eddie?”   
  
“Isn’t he at work?” He asked, frowning lightly, reaching out to catch the third fallen mug of the morning. Iris smirked  
  
“Actually Captain Singh gave him the day off, something happened with the Flash apparently.” She replied, Hartley frowned, that couldn’t be good, to his knowledge Eddie wasn’t exactly fond of the Flash, even if he had (kind of maybe) forgiven him for the time when you know, he tried to _kill_ him. Ah, the good old days, when he didn’t get coffee with his supposed leather clad arch nemesis on saturday mornings or sometimes come home to find that he had three missed calls from his parents, who had found out about his little escapade and now felt the need to yell at him for apparently 43 minutes, _per message_. Still, it was progress from the half catatonic state he’d been in during the weeks after Jacks death, speaking of which he _really_ didn’t want to wander down that particular rabbit hole, and so forced himself to refocus on Iris.  
  
Who was waving a hand in front of his face and was now telling him that in fact she had been doing this for the past two minutes.  
  
Well fuck.  
  
So maybe he wasn’t _quite_ as adjusted as he’d thought.  
  
“Sorry, drifted off a bit. What were you saying?” Hartley muttered. Iris raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and suddenly Hartley remembered that he’d wanted to give her Lisa Snarts number, see if he could produce yet another beneficial and mildly horrifying hero/villain friendship, god knows if Iris could put up with him, she could put up with Mentally Stable Harley Quinn And Her Worryingly Large Gun.   
  
Shit he’d done it again.  
  
“Sorry, Iris.” He groaned, rubbing his tired eyes slowly. Iris huffed a laugh and pulled out her phone  
  
“Eddie just texted me back, he says he’s coming to pick us up, that Barry and Cisco are coming and that he maybe stole a STAR labs van because he doesn’t think the tube is a great idea.” She relayed. Hartley blinked. Eddie’s coming, fine, all good, so are Barry- Okay, thats fine too, and so is Cisco and-   
  
Fuck.  
  
No, really, _fuck._  
  
He hadn’t seen Cisco since Jack. Since then neither his attitude (he really didn’t understand Cisco’s constant complaining, he was short, and therefore closer to hell, not to mention his parents firm belief that he had given Satan a bj in a past life and that was why he was so _very_ gay, a terrible personality was a must and had _nothing at all_ to do with the several bouts of emotional and sometimes physical trauma) nor his little crush had let up.  
  
In short he was _royally_ fucked.   
  
Well, if he played his cards right he could be actually f- You are a _professional jerk_ , Hartley Rathaway, don’t you dare think about shagging the Batman to your Joker.   
  
Well, _not much._  
  
“I’m _so_ going to hell.” He murmured. Iris shot him a funny look which he ignored of course, and waited for fate to seal his doom  
  
“Eddie says they’re outside and Cisco wants a coffee.” She informed him.   
  
So royally fucked.

* * *

  
Zoos, Hartley decided, were no bad thing. Cisco Ramon on the other hand, was the _literal embodiment of a puppy_ , and Hartley wanted to _punch him in the mouth_. With _his_ mouth. _Softly_. Because he _liked_ him. Had he mentioned how fucked he was? Damn fucking Cisco, with his stupid giddy smile and genuine care for everyone and his dorky fucking tee shirts that Hartley _in no way had duplicates of in the back of his wardrobe_. Damn Cisco and his stupid voice which was not supposed to be that attractive and his half felt insults which he spat in far too sexy sounding spanish.   
  
Fuck that guy.  
  
Or maybe if he was lucky it would be the other way ar-   
  
Hartley, _no._   
  
Then again, Hartley, _yes._   
  
“Kitten, you coming?” Eddie called. Cisco turned to face him from where he stood admiring a tiger with Barry, a raised eyebrow and a small smirk adorning his face. Hartley breathed in deeply and closed his eyes, _the indignity of it all_  
  
“Not a fucking word, Ramon.” He growled. Cisco winked at him   
  
“No promises.”   
  
Asshole.  
  
Caitlin was going to know by the end of the minute obviously, then of course she would eventually get hammered and blab to a bar tender while one of the conveniently positioned Rogues wearing a trench coat, sunglasses and a wig took notes and carried them back to Len Snart who would laugh while reading them on his ice throne with his _stupid fucking parka_ which he wore _all year round_ for the fucking _aesthetic_ and then Any Therapists Worst Fucking Nightmare would find out and when confrontation would inevitably occur he would say ‘Fancy seeing you here, my arch enemy, or should I say, _kitten?_ ’ and Jesus it was all a fucking conspiracy and holy shit Obama is a _secret lizard-_  
  
“Hartley?” Oh and there was Iris in front of him and wow that mental breakdown was coming real fucking soon,  
  
“Iris, I think I need to take a nap sometime.” He informed her worriedly, slowly setting down his fifth cup of coffee that morning and walking back towards the group. Iris nodded  
  
“Yeah, no kidding, thats the fifth time you’ve spaced out on me in two days.” She replied slowly. Hartley shot her a small grin and watched as Cisco hung back to grab his arm, shooing Iris off with a quick ‘Eddie wants you’  
  
“Eddie always wants her, only apparently he has more self restraint than you, Ramon, I didn’t take you for a public places kind of guy.” Hartley snickered. Cisco narrowed his eyes   
  
“Don’t fucking do that. It’s so annoying.” He informed him. Hartley blinked  
  
“I thought my very existence was an annoyance to you?” He smirked. Cisco glowered  
  
“It is.” He replied shortly, and _ouch,_ that _hurt._  
  
“What did you want?”  
  
“I wanted to know if you’re okay.” Cisco snarled, dropping his arm like he’d been burnt and _wow,_ okay, Hartley didn’t actually _need_ his heart.  
  
“Oh I’m just grand, Cisco. I’m freaking swell, I mean I just lost a kid and am fighting off the almost ever present urge to self destruct but yes, Cisco, I’m _okay._ ” He growled back in response. Cisco blinked. Hartley blinked.  
  
Well fuck that got too deep too fast. _Too personal, retreat, retreat._  
  
“I’m sorry, I should’t have-” They both began before hurriedly stopping, laughing awkwardly and shuffling slightly  
  
“I just- I- If you need me, then I’m here. Even if I can’t stand you. I’m here.” Cisco offered. Hartley nodded slowly, if he wasn’t careful, this little mutual comfort thing he had going with Cisco could turn into Feelings Fiasco 2.0: Not Actually A Sociopath This Time edition, and gosh darn it that was just _unacceptable_. As was Cisco’s idea that constantly wearing khakis was somehow fashionable, but Hartley intended to keep that thought to himself, god knows Cisco hadn’t listened the first fifty times.   
  
“Hartley, c’mon, I wanna go see the fish!” Leo called, grabbing his hand. Hartley gulped and grabbed Cisco’s, cause if he was spending time in the hellish terror pit that was the Central City Aquarium (he had seen Jaws, he didn’t want to die that way) then Cisco sure as hell wasn’t getting out of it. And if they continued holding hands for the duration of the detour, then that was for them to be embarrassed about and Iris to liveblog about.   
  
On the plus side Cisco’s hands were _super_ warm and soft, so he didn’t really mind that his brain started screaming that Oh Shit, The Butterflies Are Back, halfway through the shark tank.  
  
He was _so royally fucked._  
  
  
  



	15. Gideon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cisco meets Gideon and promptly adopts her as his science baby.

Cisco was fucking angry. Cisco was _pissed the fuck off_. Cisco wanted to know why the man he’d considered his father for a good chunk of his life had the fucking _nerve_ to harm a child. An innocent, wonderful, _not even fucking eleven_ year old boy. Of course he’d known, he’d clocked on as soon as he’d seen Wells hiding a smile as he read the passage in the paper about the warehouse being warped, a little body found inside. This alongside the new evidence in Nora Allen’s case file made Cisco really rather angry.  
  
And therefore about to do something very stupid. Without telling anyone. _Because fuck Wells thats why,_ Cisco reasoned, Hartley doesn’t have to know anything, nor does Caitlin and Barry _certainly_ doesn’t. So he went through with his confrontation plan, ignoring the ‘visions’ he’d been having completely. Hartley would call him a moron, Barry would happily join in, Caitlin would finally perform that lobotomy she'd been threatening and his mother would personally skin him. He doubted that Dante would care.   
  
The wonderful thing about being a genius, as both Hartley and Cisco and Harrison (if he was feeling particularly egocentric) would tell you, is that you are _always_ prepared, you consider every variable possible, and you compensate for all of them. Which meant that even if Harrison Not Actually Wells had meant to kill him, or rather, meant to kill him _now,_ that he was ready. He knew just what to say to push the assholes buttons, how to ensure he wound up captured rather than in a coffin,   
  
Which was how he ended up here, in a room with bumpy walls that looked like they were covered in Braille and a super computer who was attempting small talk.   
  
"Good day Mr Ramon, my name is Gideon." The computer introduced. Cisco blinked  
  
"Only Hartley calls me Mr Ramon, and that's when he's pissed off." He muttered absently, running his fingers over the various bumps around where he'd been shoved inside by a rather irate Apparently Not All That Paralysed After All. If Gideon could, he liked to think that she would have giggled  
  
"Do you need anything, Mr Ramon?" She asked. Cisco shook his head, and marvelled as Gideon interpreted that and responded "Alright."   
  
"Who designed you, Gideon?" He asked slowly, walking over to examine the array of holograms and sensors.   
  
"I was designed by Barry Allen, Cisco Ramon and Hartley Ramon." Gideon replied. Cisco paused "They won the Turing Award for my design and subsequent success."   
  
If Cisco wasn't a scientist, and therefore didn't believe in robots with feelings unless they were called Hal or Wall-E, then he could have sworn that there was a hint of pride in her tone. Personally he was spinning with the fact that _holy fuck, I won a_ Turing award, _holy shit_. This of course meant that he totally missed the difference in Hartley's last name.   
  
"Oh my god." He squeaked. Gideon let out a mechanical noise that could, in some societies, be considered a chuckle   
  
"Quite." And yep, there was Hartley. He could tell where the speech patterns originated from, and holy fuck he had a _science Baby_ with Hartley Rathaway and Barry Allen  
  
"I am your father." He muttered, giggling lightly before remembering that Not Harrison Wells was almost definitely going after his rag tag family and now was _not the time_ to be making Star Wars references.   
  
Who was he kidding? It was _always_ the time for Star Wars references. Gideon let out a robot version of a sigh, he blinked at her,   
  
"Hartley programmed you to do that, right?"  
  
“Yes, he was rather adamant, I am afraid.” She replied tonelessly. Cisco huffed a laugh and decided that after this was all over, he would take Hartley and Barry for coffee and demand a science baby because even if she was helping Legit The Worst Human Ever, he loved his trash robot daughter, and Hartley was really good with kids, and Barry was just amazing, full stop.   
  
“This is so _hella_.” He mumbled. Then he remembered that Harrishithead was going after his family and friends and that really he should be working on getting Gideon to switch teams and open the damn door. “So, Gideon, y’know how me and Har-”  
  
“Hartley and I.” Gideon corrected.   
  
“Yeah he definitely programmed your speech patterns, did you do this with Dr Wells?”   
  
“Dr Wells has perfect grammar and impressive syntax, there was no need, _you_ on the other hand…”   
  
“You sound just like Hartley.” Cisco commented. Gideon chose not to reply.   
  
This was going to be _fun._   
  



	16. Game on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight begins

Eobard had finally, _finally_ found Hartley’s address, and in the end he’d only had to go through Cisco’s phone to find it tucked away. _What the fuck_ kind of villain was he if he missed that, the most obvious of options and _Jesus christ_ he could never look at his friends at home again. He sighed deeply. When had this become his life, when had chasing after an ex who posed no threat other than having some rather annoying knowledge of him become his sole focus? Even Barry was noticing something was off, and Barry was a man who at this point both looked and had the mental capacity of a _puppy_. Still, he thought, might as well get it over with. The kid was already weak from losing his brat a few weeks ago, and now of course would be the perfect time to strike, when he thought he was safe, but still reeling from the previous attack.   
  
So he sped on over to his old toys apartment, phased through the door only to see _Iris fucking West_ , the blogging bane of his existence making mac and cheese for the troop of brats watching cartoons on a battered old tv, not on the couch _with_ Hartley, who had apparently crashed out, but rather _on_ the boy and damn, he still looked good when he was sleeping, Eobard mused, it was a shame he’d had to give him up, he made such _pretty_ noises, still, no matter. He figured he could toy with Hartley some more before killing him, he did look so _cute_ when he was angry, so he immediately began to cart the kids off to STAR Labs, suddenly rather thankful for the recharge he’d given his powers a few hours ago, far too fast for any of them to notice or scream out. He also took Iris, because she already knew too much and now he’d have _two_ pretty things to look at while he completed his plan.   
  
He did realise however that simply hiding them in the basement of STAR labs was perhaps not the best of ideas, so he decided to be reckless for once. He’d hide them in the time stream, at some random point in time where Hartley could never follow, until he did. And then the fun would really begin. So the question of the day was, which period did he most enjoy?  
  
He’d always wanted to meet Madame Du Pompadour.  
  
He also fancied a nice croissant.

* * *

  
Hartley woke up with bleary eyes, a fast beating heart and a scream dying on his lips when he noticed it. It was the noise that tipped him off, or rather the lack of it. He could hear the stove going, something fizzling in a pan, the electricity humming through the building, the water in the pipes and the couple downstairs having yet another argument. But he did not hear any soft breaths, any small giggles, no Iris, no kids. Except one, small lungs heaving in shaky breaths in the closet in his room. Leo. Jesus, hadn’t the kid been through _enough?_  
  
 _Hadn’t they all?_  
  
Apparently not, because there was no sign of his kids or Iris. So he stumbled to the closet, a fast paced fear fluttering in his stomach and a roiling anger forcing tremors from his clenched fists, he threw open the door, face hardening as he took in the sight of his brave little lion with red rimmed eyes and his arms thrown over his face, knees tucked to his chest. Leo peeked at him and threw himself at Hartley, sobbing into his sweater, and the fear was consumed by a need to hurt the person, the _monster_ who _dared_ to try and take his family away from him. _They would not survive this attempt_. Hartley would ensure they would burn, burn like Jack had in his tiny coffin, only Hartley would never grant him the honour of a funeral, a headstone, of dignity in death. He didn’t deserve that.   
  
“Leo, my Leo,” He breathed, holding his boy close, Leo tucked his face into Hartley’s waist. “I’m here. I will _always_ be here.”   
  
“He took them, he took them and Iris and I _couldn’t_ \- I just hid- I,” He whispered. Hartley hushed him and knelt down to his level  
  
“Lion you did the brave thing, you are here with me, yes? Yes, you’re my _courage_ , you are,” He mumbled, carding a hand through Leo’s hair “You’re my strength, and I will _never_ leave you alone again,”  
  
“Okay.” Leo whispered, rubbing his tired eyes. Hartley smiled  
  
“So, we are going to make a plan of action. I’m going to send you to see Mr Eddie, you remember him right? Tall, blond with a hero complex?” Leo giggled at that, and Hartley smiled “Yeah you do, so Mr Eddie and Detective West are going to look after you while Barry and I find the others, okay?”  
  
“Okay,” Leo nodded, Hartley kissed his forehead and smiled  
  
“You’re so _brave_ , my little lion. What would I do without you?”   
  
“Crash and burn.” Leo giggled. Hartley made a face  
  
“I knew you and Cisco were spending too much time together.”   
  
With that he led Leo to the couch and called Eddie, who immediately came over with Joe and Barry, who were livid. Leo was sent off with Eddie and Joe, who promised video games and McDonalds, while promising Hartley his blessing to do whatever he goddamn liked to the guy who did this. Joe even passed him his gun while Eddie distracted Leo with tales of a particularly adventurous childhood attempt at karate. When they’d left Hartley growled out a warning to stay back lest he totally lose control and just _scream_ , and god knows what had happened last time he was this emotional.   
  
So instead Barry just swore his help and helped Hartley pack every weapon known to man (which he kept under his sink in a tightly locked cabinet) and laid out their plan, since it was almost definitely Eobard Thawne, the fucking turd remnant he was, and he was of course going to be hiding out near STAR labs.   
  
_God_ help him, wherever he was.  
  
For once Hartley was glad no one ever told him it wasn’t wise to piss off someone who could will you _out of existence_ with a _sentence._  
  
Of course once they got there Eobard The Heartless Prick Thawne was no where to be found, so thank god Barry was there, since unfortunately Hartley could not track speed force. Barry, however, could. A half second later Hartley was staring at the inside of a huge ballroom, a bunch of well dressed 18th century frenchmen. Hartley blinked, looked around for the suspiciously absent Barry, then frowned lightly.  
  
“ _Bonjour_.” He greeted sheepishly. The ballroom then exploded and in the next minute he was fairly sure he got both smashed and mono. God he _loved_ the french, with their champagne and kissing fetish. Could be worse. It was at this point that he realised that he still needed Eobastard to underestimate him, it was a good thing that he was a fucking _amazing_ actor. It certainly didn’t hurt that the king of France was eyeing him like a piece of meat and nothing said unreliable and useless like a hickey from Louis the fifteenth.   
  
Now that was not a sentence he’d ever imagined thinking, he mused as he was plied with yet more alcohol. 

* * *

  
Meanwhile Iris was glowering at Eobard Thawne, who for some reason could not be bothered to brush his hair for his villainous reveal but apparently needed time for fucking _eyeshadow_. What a dick. Iris had her hands full between keeping her and Hartley’s gang calm and safe and subtly threatening their captor, who seemed intent on detailing exactly how Hartley was a useless prick who would never come for them.  
  
“You better pray.” She growled. He chuckled at that, and she felt the urge to do the same, because she wasn’t the one who would die here.  
  
“Oh? And why is that?”  
  
“Well aside from the fact that once I get out of here I am going to _crucify_ you, you may think you’re some big bad, the ultimate threat, but in our time, our world, we have a name for Hartley, the S-”   
  
Was that opera? Apparently so, she shrugged “The Sir-”  
  
“ _I could have begged for more, I could have spread my wings, ba ba da ba!_ ” Hartley sang as he stumbled inside, wearing sunglasses and his tie around his head, several lovebites rather visible on his neck. “Have you _met_ the french? My _god_ they know how to party!”   
  
He giggled drunkenly and sloshed his flute of champagne around, hips swaying to the waltz being played upstairs. “Would you look what the cat dragged in, the Siren of Central City.” Iris drawled, eyebrow raised. Hartley snickered at her   
  
“You know you sound just like your father.” He commented,   
  
“What the _hell_ have you been doing?” She demanded angrily. Hartley smiled proudly  
  
“Making out with the King of France, and, among other things, I think I may have invented the banana split a few centuries early. Y’know they’d never even seen a banana before, always bring a banana to a party, Iris. Bananas are good and can get you laid if you use them right, ain’t that right, Eobadguy? Eobaby, _Eobitch_ ,” He trailed off into drunken giggling. Eobard stared at him  
  
 _What the fuck?_   
  
“Oh and dude, let me tell you, you are my favourite, y’know why? ‘Cause you’re just so _thick_ , you’re Mr Thick Thickity Thickface from Thick Town, Thickania. And, dude, _so is your dad._ ” He pointed at Eobard’s chest and swayed slightly.   
  
“ _Rude._ ” Eobard commented. Iris frowned  
  
“Hartley _what_ are you doing?”   
  
“I’m distracting this cherry turd blossom so he doesn’t notice my friend in the corner.” Hartley replied, shooting her a wild smile. And suddenly out of the shadows walked the Flash “You didn’t think I’d come _alone,_ did you?”   
  
The game was, by all standards, on.  
  



	17. Siren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hartley is a monster, but he is a damn efficient one.

Hartley stopped breathing. His eyes darted over the room, the exits, the texture and material of the floor, the walls, over his kids and finally over Eobard, he could see the gears turning, the options forming, being rejected or shortlisted and the speed force crackling behind his eyes. He saw his opportunity. If this didn’t work he could very well be dead. Still, he was a genius. He’d be fine. He grabbed Eobard’s chin and tipped his champagne into the speedsters mouth  
  
“ _Swallow._ ” He growled, charmspeak lacing each syllable with tangible authority. Eobard swallowed and well would you look at that, it goddamn _worked_. He felt his chest heaving and the room turn to stare  
  
“What did you _do?_ ” Iris asked. Hartley made a noncommittal gesture to Barry, who began to run the kids back home in twos and threes, while he removed the tie from his head, took off the sunglasses and set the glass down  
  
“Paralytic in the champagne, did you know that poppies can be turned into opium?” He replied carelessly. Iris shuddered  
  
“Why isn’t he dead then?”  
  
“Speedsters are stick thin for a reason, Iris, they have super fast metabolisms. What a _pisser,_ what I wouldn’t give for a super metabolism-”  
  
“ _Hartley_.”  
  
“Yes?” He asked absently running his fingers through his hair and tying his tie. Iris glowered at him  
  
“How long do we have before it wears off?” She ground out. Hartley checked his watch  
  
“As of right now? About an hour. I may have added a little bit of hemlock as well, shame it can’t just kill him.” At that point Barry came to a standstill in front of them, and Hartley could almost feel the raised eyebrows accusing him. “Oh my _god_ , dude. She most likely already knows, calm the fuck down.”   
  
Barry shot him a look, bit his lip and pulled down the cowl. Hartley thought it would be helpful to start singing the Eastenders theme. It wasn’t helpful and Iris smacked his arm lightly. She then smacked Barry in the face, Hartley ooh’ed appreciatively and Barry stared at her, mouth wide open and clear offence radiating off of him. He made to speak but Iris held up a hand  
  
“You are my way home, _don’t_ make me kill you before I get back.” She ground out, Hartley shot Barry a smug look as Iris hugged him and grabbed Barry's arm with a death grip. Barry winced and zapped off, leaving Hartley with about half a minute alone with his paralysed enemy, Hartley blinked at the frozen speedster  
  
"That was _embarrassingly_ easy, you know," he commented, checking his nails with an air of comfort that he knew would drive Eobard insane. He then paused, snickered, and pulled a sharpie out of one of his pockets, and proceeded to draw a moustache on Eobard's face, sometimes, he mused, it didn't hurt to be childish. Then Barry zapped back into the room, glanced at Eobard and snorted  
  
"You're _such_ a nerd." He muttered. Hartley shrugged  
  
"I do it so well, though." He pointed out before pressing a kiss to Eobard's cheek, sending a flirty wink over his shoulder as he walked back towards Barry "I'm afraid that's my ride, love. Barry, be a dear and get me to Louis."   
  
He saw a muscle jump just slightly in Eobard's jaw and snickered as he was scooped up, being deposited in what had to be the most extravagant living room he'd ever seen, where a despondent King Louis played the piano. Hartley leapt off of Barry and cleared his throat  
  
“ _I’m sorry, my love, I’m afraid I have some rather important business to attend to and must leave now._ ” He murmured in french. The King of France got up and swept Hartley into a dip and proceeded to kiss the daylights of out him, Barry blinked, and averted his eyes, face flushing at the noises the couple was emitting. Hartley disentangled himself, pressed a small kiss to King Louis cheek and paused as his eyes caught on the other half of the french power couple.  
  
“Who are _you?_ ” Asked an outraged Madame de Pompadour. Hartley snickered and walked back over to Barry  
  
“I’m Hartley, and I just snogged Louis the Fifteenth!” He introduced incredulously, nodding to Barry, who let out a relieved laugh and took them both home. Hartley opened his eyes again a few seconds later to see Iris clutching onto Eddie, whose jaw was set and whose arm was clamped around Leo’s shoulders as the kid was hugged by his adoptive siblings. Hartley smiled softly, his family was _safe_ , no one had died, and Eobucket Of Shit was being carted off to the pipeline as they spoke. Soon he could put this whole thing to rest, have a good life, but before that came his kids, he walked towards them, knelt down and let them swarm him, hugging and kissing and reassuring them that he was still there, they clutched onto him, eyes tired and scared and longing for the stability Hartley hoped to god he could give them now.  
  
“I’m here, it’s okay, everything’s fine, I have you, it’s alright.” He murmured. “I will _always_ come for you, you’ll never have to be alone and scared again. Not if I can help it.”   
  
The kids nodded shakily and he slowly got up, before letting Iris sweep them into a hug, a hug which Jerimiah seemed to be enjoying just a tad too much. Caitlin and Cisco stared at him  
  
“What the fuck happened to your neck?” Caitlin asked, Hartley shot her a wide, leering grin  
  
“ _Louis the Fifteenth_ happened to my neck, he was bi, apparently. Who knew?” He replied cheerfully. He watched in sheer delight as jealously flared deliciously in the line of his jaw, in the way he eyed the marks on Hartley’s neck. Hartley shot a small innocent smile at him, then his eyes fell on the series of bruises surrounding his wrists “What happened to you guys?”  
  
“I met an AI who is my science baby and convinced her to let me out of where Dr Wells locked me up.” Cisco blanked. Hartley raised an eyebrow  
  
“You have an AI science baby?” he asked flatly.   
  
“ _We_ have an AI science baby, we share custody with Barry.” He replied carelessly. Hartley blinked  
  
“And when did we begin coming as a pair?” he questioned. Cisco shrugged, a blush floating up his neck and suddenly Hartley smirked, realising that he had control here, so he caught Cisco’s eye and bit his lip, and huffed out a small chuckle when the blush deepened. _Interesting._   
  
“If you two could _stop_ eyefucking.” Barry groaned “I had enough of this when he was making out with the King of freaking France.”   
  
Cisco blinked, swallowed and raised his eyebrows at his favourite speedster, as Barry slung a careless arm around Hartley’s shoulders “Yeah but you know you thought it was hot.” Hartley protested. Barry frowned  
  
“Not really.”  
  
“Yeah you totally did.”  
  
“Yeah I did.” Barry conceded. Hartley grinned smugly, which oddly enough seemed to be his perpetual expression, and smirked as he caught Cisco’s calculating glance at Barry, who seemed totally content to stare wistfully at Iris and Eddie surrounded by Hartley’s kids, Cisco was absolutely _stunning_ when he was confident, charming in his assurance in his abilities and goddamn it if Hartley didn’t think his possessive behaviour was freaking hot as _fuck._  
  
Still.   
  
Now was _not_ the time.  
  
So Hartley gathered up his troop, thanked Barry, hugged Iris and Eddie, nodded at Caitlin and pressed a casual kiss to Cisco’s cheek, forcing himself not to giggle as his breath hitched, and began to head home, but just before he reached the door, he had a thought. A thought which couldn’t wait. So he told his kids to stay exactly where they were, and that he would be right back, and raced down to the pipeline, throwing his jacket off along the way, he opened it up and locked eyes with a slightly sluggish but perfectly aware Eobard Thawne. He watched in satisfaction as his pupils dilated with both lust and pure fury  
  
“ _You,_ ” He spat. “The things I will do to you.” Hartley felt his heart do a backflip and his hands consider trembling, but let none of it show, instead choosing to pull down his collar  
  
“Louis the fifteenth,” he remarked, pointing to one of the many hickeys adorning his neck “Len Snart, the king, and the king again, Len, here is reserved for Cisco, obviously, Len once more. And Louis again.”   
  
He grinned mercilessly as Eobardon’t You Wish Your Girlfriend Was A Psychotic Speedster Like Me ( _Don’tcha_ ) narrowed his eyes, a dark look crossing his stolen features. Hartley raised his eyebrows  
  
“You want _more?_ Okay. Here,’ he pointed to his ribs, “I have a huge one from Len, and here,’ he pointed at his hipbone “Here’s your favourite spot, right? Its a shame, you know, both Louis, David and Len were also rather fond of it.”   
  
“Your point being?” His Least Favourite Asshole asked testily, still eying him hungrily, Hartley leaned close to the glass  
  
“This,’ he gestured to his body “Is _not_ _fucking yours_. And if you _dare_ to try and hurt me or my family ever again, if I have to bury _one more of them?_ There will be _hell_ to pay. I’ll be back soon, darling.” He smiled sweetly at the fuming speedster and began to walk away  
  
“You will always need me, you were _nothing_ without me.” Growled Eobard. Hartley paused, smiled coldly, and spoke  
  
“ _And you will always be hungry. You will always need more. More food, more light, more dark, more air, more space, more clothes, more freedom, more of me_.” He began to advance back towards the cage as he saw his words take effect, Eobard began gasping, clawing at his head at his clothes “ _You will never be satisfied. You will ache, beg for more, more of everything and nothing, you will tear yourself to dust_ _before you ever try to tell me I am nothing again_. Now, _silence_ , you bore me, _you will recover now, you are stable,_ ”   
  
Eobard stopped screaming, he stared at Hartley with horror, and Hartley smiled at him “I have nothing further to say to you, you are no longer of interest to me.” He remarked, before walking away, leaving Eobard to cradle his head in his hands.  
  
Yes he was a monster, but he was a _damn efficient_ one.   
  



	18. Dear Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I cried, you might too. I recommend listening to 'Dear Theodosia' from the Hamilton soundtrack while you read this chapter, thank you guys so much for sticking with me through this hellish few chapters, things will pick up soon enough,

Dear Jack,  
  
I don’t know if this is a thing most people do, I don’t think so. I just wanted to give you an update on everyone, since you can’t see it first hand anymore, and I just- oh fuck this its pointless.  
  
I’m sorry, I got mad, I had to take a break for a while. Anyway, on the off chance you see this from wherever the hell you went, I just wanted to let you know that I love you, and I miss you. I miss your smile, one tooth missing, I miss your little cartoons you would draw me whenever I got sad, I miss the way you’d chase me around the flat with your red painted hands. I’d always make such a fuss about the paint, I didn’t think I’d miss it. I did. I do. I have a friend, Roy Bivolo, he’s a painter too, Jack, just like you, he likes colour too, only he can’t see it. His paintings are so bright, Jack, you’ll love them. You would have loved them.  
  
I took another break, sorry buddy, I’ve got a lot going on at the moment.   
  
We caught the bad man I told you about, the one who tried to hurt us, we got him, Jacky, he’s never going to hurt us again. Cisco, Barry, Iris, Eddie, Caitlin and Joe helped, they helped all of us. I was a bad man again, Jack, I hurt Eobard, I used his weakness against him, I would try and say that it was only fair after all that he did to us, after he took you away, but I’d be lying. Promise me you’ll never do the things I do, Jack.   
  
Life is good now, well, Iris thinks it is, she and Eddie have absorbed Barry into a weird hottie trio, its kind of cute actually, they all hold hands down the streets (which while sweet, doesn’t make them very popular with the passersby) Caitlin and Ronnie are doing well, after he got over the whole ‘I’m that kid from the Incredibles’ thing. Cisco and I have fallen into a sort of friendship relationship kind of thing. It’s only marginally healthier than our last one. Still, progress is progress.   
  
You had my smile, you know, I think you thought it would impress me. It did. You were always so smart, my Jack. When you first joined our little gang you were crying, and it broke my heart, I couldn’t help you then. Nothing changed really. I did try, I tried so hard to care for all of you, hockey tournaments and chess games and endless playlists. Domestic life was never quite my style, but when you would smile at me when you won a game, or when you got all A’s, I fell apart. You know I thought I was so smart and yet one action from you, one small grin and I was blown away.   
  
You were supposed to outlive me. I’m not even gray yet, Jack. And yet here we are. You were supposed to have to look after your stupid old Hartley, there were supposed to be awkward christmas dinners, dating advice, tests that went wrong. You weren’t supposed to go Jack. You were going to blow us all away.   
  
My dad wasn’t around when I was your age, Jack. He didn’t care enough to be there, and when he did it was to hurt me, I promised that I’d always be around for you, and I wasn’t. I wasn’t around when you needed me most and I’m so sorry, Jacky, I swear I’ll protect your brothers and sisters, I won’t let you down again, Jack. I promise.   
  
Coming from me that probably doesn’t mean much to you.   
  
I think I’m falling in love again, Jack. You were supposed to do that before me. I was supposed to tell you how to ask your crush out for prom, or buy you the puppy you fell in love with in the shop window. Or maybe provide you and your soulmate, platonic or not with popcorn to throw at each other on movie nights. I wasn’t supposed to find mine. Cisco’s been so kind to me, Jack, you love Cisco, remember. You loved Cisco. He’s ever so nerdy, he’s starting to clock onto the fact that I am too, you mustn’t let it slip just yet, Jack, I’m waiting for him to find the Doctor Who shirt in my closet.   
  
Iris is, as she has always been, my lifeline, she helps me cook for you all (you remember how useless I am with anything other than takeout) and Captain Singh (the first policeman I’ve ever dated, get me!) has been showing Jeremiah around the station. He says he’ll make a great cop. Can you imagine, our Jeremiah, a cop? Yeah, me neither. Still, he enjoys it, and your happiness is my goal.   
  
You would have been so happy.   
  
I have to go now, Jack, Cisco and Barry want to talk about our ‘Science Baby’, Cisco still hasn’t asked for his sweater back yet. I fully intend to steal it (don’t say a word).  
  
I wish you were here, J, I miss you so much.  
  
Hartley.


	19. Pizza and oh god not again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hartley realises that he's falling again, pizza is bought and Cisco is super jelous

Hartley didn’t really know what to do with himself anymore, his entire life he had goals to work for, to achieve, first it was to be able to hear again, then to make his parents proud- unsurprisingly that one hadn’t lasted long- then to listen to every genre and every artist he could find, then to come out, then to find somewhere to live, then to get the various degrees and doctorates he wanted, then to impress Harrison Wells, then to make the accelerator work, then to look after his kids, then to find out what was wrong with the equations that just wouldn’t add up, then to get over Harrison, then to get back on his feet, then to find a way to make the pain stop, _please stop_ , then to control his ability, then to take Harrison _the fuck down._   
  
He’d achieved most every one of these.   
  
Now he couldn’t find a new goal.   
  
It sucked, in short, he was listless, he couldn’t find anything to do with himself, so he let Cisco and the kids drag him around, to the zoo, to STAR labs (he absolutely did not watch endless hours of Eobard’s CCTV, just because he didn’t trust himself to go and visit the asshole himself), to Caitlin and Ronnie's, to Iris, Eddie and Barry’s, to Joe’s. Somewhere along the line he allowed himself to have fun again, and somewhere along the line he found himself sort of a little bit in love with Cisco.   
  
It went something like this.  
  
The crisis began on a cool autumn day, he was out with Jeremiah and Leo, who had somehow become best friends after Jack had gone and oh sweet Jesus he missed his little boy _so goddamn much_ sometimes it knocked the breath out of him, but still, he was okay, he was doing _fine_ , and if all else failed he could always call Iris and she would stroke his hair and tell him everything would be okay, and eventually it would be. He, Jeremiah and Leo were out getting the groceries for the week, Hartley was having a hard time telling Leo that _no_ he couldn’t only get junk and dragging Jeremiah away from the kitchen knives, that was when Cisco appeared  
  
“Need a hand?” He asked. Hartley jumped and span around, ready to murder the rude asshole who dared interrupt his marginal progress. It was Cisco. _Of course it was Cisco_ , with his stupid dumb hair that Hartley in no way wanted to hang onto and his stupid asshole eyes which were _too fucking cute_ and damn why did he always wind up wanting to murder his crushes it seemed rather unhealthy to him and goddamn he was doing it _again_  
  
“I spaced out, sorry.” he mumbled sourly. Cisco shrugged   
  
“Me too, its all good.” As Hartley would later find out, Cisco was spacing out over much the same thing, his thought process sounded just a little like this: Stupid fucking goddamn Rathaway, he’s not _allowed_ to be pretty. Jesus christ and his hairs so fucking messy I just wanna pull on it and fuck why is his neck so pale Jesus I wonder how easily he gets hickeys and his eyes are just so fucking pretty I wanna see them all blown wide and- this is a pubic place, Cisco, chill out. _Be_ Captain Cold. _Become_ frosty the snowman. I want ice cream. Oh shit Hartley’s staring.  
  
They both awkwardly laughed before Cisco shook himself out of it, grabbed Leo’s hand, the shopping list and Hartley’s hand, he was a man on a mission. Cisco Ramon was going to be the first man to make grocery shopping into a date. Hartley stared at him  
  
“What the hell are you doing?” He asked. Leo tugged on Hartley’s sweater   
  
“Mr Cisco is coming shopping with us, aren’t you?” He asked Cisco. Cisco nodded emphatically  
  
“Absolutely, Leo, c’mon guys, we’re going for pizza.”   
  
And just like that, Hartley realised that the stupid butterflies had given way to warmth, and his chest ached when he looked at Cisco and oh fucking shit not _this_ again he had Rogues to supervise and assholes to date. He didn’t need this, he didn’t need someone like Cisco, who was miles out of his league and in no way deserved someone like Hartley dragging him down. The first time he’d loved it had been Earl Povich, who had beaten the shit out of him regularly and had only left Hartley alone when he got himself arrested, the second time he’d loved it was Harrison Not Wells, whom he had learnt to trust, whom he had given everything to, who turned around and shattered his heart, then proceeded to commit murder to try and remove the mild if annoying threat he posed.   
  
Love was a game Hartley knew the rules to, but never won.   
  
Love burned nations and destroyed races.   
  
_His_ love was currently trying to decide between pepperoni and Hawaiian.   
  
“I’m veggie. No meat.” He commented. Cisco immediately picked up a cheese pizza  
  
“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” He replied cheerfully. Hartley felt his heart squeeze in his chest.   
  
He was _so fucked._  
  
And not even in the sexy way.

* * *

Hartley somehow made it through the next few weeks of Cisco's staring and wound up hanging out with the Rogues to get away from the by now goddamn _tiring_ heartache which would never go away until he found some other dick to date. Speaking of which, could he marry James Jesse? Even if it were only for tax benefits, he would have been very content to just spend the rest of his life listening to the wild Italians stories. And JJ _liked_ him, he thought he was sweet, and that he wasn't cut out for being a Rogue, but then again, Hartley wasn't really on anyones team but his own. 

Slytherins _kick ass._

Currently JJ was chatting to him about Len in Italian, grinning and Hartley was rather glad to have JJ as a friend, he wanted more friends, he liked the security and how comfortable he felt with them, and JJ was everything you looked for in a friend. He was kind (to him, at least, he'd seen the results of his pranks on other people- it wasn't pretty), funny, gentle and he was a _cuddle monster._

Hartley was a very tactile person when he was with peope he was comfortable with, platonic or not he loved being held, it made him feel safe. JJ was one of the rare guys who would literally pick his friends up and carry them in a firemans hold for as long as he could, just to know they were there, and trusted him enough not to drop them. After meeting JJ, Hartley oftentimes found himself watching Castle with him, head in his lap as JJ played with his hair and yelled at the screen, it was comfortable, it felt like he'd reunited with his best friend after weeks apart rather than having only just met him. 

One day this became a problem, not for Hartley of course, but for Cisco, who while being gentle and sweet was _very_ protective, and contrary to popular belief, he got _very_ jealous. When he and Hartley had still worked together at STAR labs he had found himself sending cold glaces at Harrison whenever he adjusted Hartley's glasses or made him blush that pretty pink, he had of course then quickly looked away and wondered why he was so possessive of the dick. 

You can imagine the fun he had when James Jesse wandered up to STAR labs one day, asking after Hartley. He had wandered into the cortex, apparently bypassing all security (Cisco was going to have a little _chat_ with Gideon after this, he thought he could trust his science baby to do her job) and immediately started fiddling with various bits of equipment. Cisco had paused in his conversation with Barry, they both turned to stare

"Hey, I'm James, I'm looking for- oh there he is, heya Pipes!" He called, grinning widely as Hartley walked into the room. He paused, then a delighted smile broke over his features too and goddamn Cisco wanted to _rip this asshole apart_ , he wanted Hartley to look at _him_ like that, not at this dumb bimbo. Hartley walked over and was immediately swept into a huge bear hug

"JJ what the hell are you doing here?" He asked, laughing. Cisco's jaw clenched, next time this 'JJ' came around, he would have worked up his courage and if he had his way, it would be obvious who Hartley was dating. Cisco remembered watching the tape of Hartley confronting Eobard in his cell and the rush of rage as he'd carelessly remarked on Eobard's favourite spot to mark, if Hartley would stop avoiding him for long enough for him to say something, and if all went well, that spot would be reserved for him and him alone. 

"I wanted to visit you, also, I come bearing the hottest of hot news." JJ replied giddily, Hartley raised an eyebrow

"Mark and Len are shagging, Mick is becoming a fireman, Roy burned his oil pastels, what?" He rattled off, clearly interested. JJ giggled

"Len found out about Lisa and Roscoe." 

"You're _shitting me_." Hartley breathed "Oh he's so very very dead."

"Is that not good?" Barry asked carefully. Hartley blinked

"It's extremely very not good. Has Len iced him yet?" 

"Not yet but I have 911 on speed dial."  JJ snickered. "If we go now we'll catch the second act." Hartley bit his lip, glancing back at a fuming Cisco and a clearly interested Barry 

"Can I come?" The speedster asked. JJ blinked at him 

"You're the Flash." He pointed out. 

"Sure am. Can I come?" Barry nodded enthusiastically. Hartley shook his head at him, wondering how the fuck this _literal fucking puppy_ wound up as Central City's saviour. JJ shrugged and nodded

"I need to grab my stuff, meet you there." Hartley called as he walked to his adopted desk. JJ and Barry grinned at each other and began to rapidly talk football as they left. Cisco stood there fuming.

Shit was about to go down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for teasing with the end there guys, they will get together soon, don't worry.


	20. FINALLY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cisco and Hartley finally get their goddamn shit together

Cisco was being _weird_. His jaw was clenched, following his fists example. He hadn’t moved since JJ had come in, speaking of which, he couldn’t wait to see the hideout, he had a feeling that it would either have been blown to pieces or melted slowly while Len sat sulking over a carton of ice cream. Roscoe and Lisa were going to die, well, Roscoe would almost definitely, then Lisa would murder Len for killing him and then who the hell knew what would happen. The world would crash and burn probably, _god help_ anyone in the way of Lisa Snart and her worryingly large gun. Luckily for him Lisa liked him, she thought he was cute and she wanted him to teach her the flute.   
  
Then as they often did, his thoughts turned back to Cisco, who was staring at him angrily, flushed red. Hartley’s smile slowly fell from his face, had he done something?   
  
“What?” He asked slowly. Cisco gritted his teeth  
  
“ _Nothing._ ” He ground out. Hartley took a step towards him, eyes wide  
  
“No, c’mon, what did I do?” Hartley didn’t know how to react to this anger, he’d never seen Cisco angry when he didn’t know the cause (which was usually himself, _of course_ ) so he was totally clueless as to which buttons to press. It was like trying to build a spaceship in the pitch black. Only there was less of a chance Cisco would literally blow him up. Actually, looking at him right now, that was becoming a more likely to be viable option by the second.   
  
_Well fuck._  
  
“I said, nothing.” Cisco spat, snapping around to storm down the corridor, Hartley followed, now getting angry  
  
“Cisco don’t you fucking turn your back on me, what the fuck is _wrong_ with you?” He called, glaring at Cisco, who suddenly stopped, dead still  
  
“Whats wrong is that you’re shacking up with the fucking _Trickster_ , thats whats _wrong_.” He snarled, whipping around to face him. Hartley blinked  
  
“ _Shacking up_ \- What? He’s my _friend_ , I can have friends, Cisco, and I don’t need to run them by you for permission, also, _newsflash,_ asshole: _I’m_ a Rogue, he is no more dangerous than I am, and what’re gonna do to _me_ , Ramon? Lock me up in your cute little cell-”  
  
“I’m starting to think I should!”  
  
“Yeah cause that worked _so well_ the last time, let me remind you, Cisco, that you have _no idea_ what I am capable of, you have seen nothing, _nothing_ of what I can do.” Cisco crowded closer to him  
  
“Go on then, do it.”  
  
“What?” Hartley breathed. Cisco glared   
  
“Fucking _do_ something, for once in your life-”  
  
“For _once in my life?_ I raised a warehouse to the _ground_ , Cisco, I give all of my fucking money to other people, I push away my feelings so other people can get their shot, I helped to bring down one of the most vile, _evil_ men this world has ever seen and you wanna talk about how I’m not doing _enough?!_ ” He spat, jaw clenched. Cisco pushed away  
  
“What _is_ it with you? Jesse been messing with your head, Hartley?” He growled, Hartley snarled at him  
  
“What the fuck is it with JJ?” He asked, Cisco began to stalk away “ _Cisco what is your fucking problem?_ ”   
  
“My problem is that you look at him like he hung the goddamn _moon_ , bicho,” Cisco muttered angrily. Hartley stood dead still  
  
“What?”   
  
“My problem is that I’m _in love_ with you and you are too goddamn _blind_ to see it.” Hartley took a step back.   
  
First of all, what?  
  
Second of all, _what the fuck?_   
  
Cisco stood still, head tilted to the ground, half facing him, Hartley took a small breath in, feeling his mind race, stop dead, then begin to race again. Cisco made to walk away, Hartley ran to catch up, something he’d never done before, not even for Harrison, he caught him by the hand  
  
“ _What?"_ He asked again, softly. Cisco turned and suddenly Hartley wanted to cry, Cisco was in love with him, Cisco was _in fucking love_ with _him._ He wasn’t pushing him away. He didn’t change anything about himself to get Cisco to like him. Cisco _loved him._   
  
“Te amo,” Cisco mumbled.   
  
“Oh, Paco,” he sighed, pushing some of Cisco’s hair from his face “Yo también te amo.”   
  
“Huh?” Cisco’s head snapped up, Hartley swallowed thickly “You-”  
  
“I think I’m in love with you and I’m _so fucking scared_.” Hartley whispered. Cisco stared at him  
  
“How long?”  
  
“A few months.” Hartley mumbled, Cisco blinked   
  
“Goddamn, Hart we could have been having _mind blowing_ sex for, like, _ages_ , step your game up.” He giggled. Hartley frowned at him  
  
“We were having a moment there.”  
  
“Moments still good, I think, bicho.”   
  
“Nah, you ruined it.” Hartley grouched.   
  
“I can improve it,”   
  
“Oh?” and suddenly Hartley was backed against the wall with Cisco pressed right up against him “Hi there.”   
  
“Hi.” Cisco replied softly. “Can I kiss you?”   
  
Hartley had never been asked before, it was always presumed that he would say yes. Cisco was standing there ready to be pulled close or pushed back, and suddenly Hartley was totally clear on just why Cisco was the guy for him. He had _never_ been asked before. It had always been presumed that he would say yes. Until now. Until Cisco  
  
“You can do a lot more than that, Paco.” he replied, raising an eyebrow. Cisco groaned low in his throat  
  
“Whatever you’re doing, stop.” He ordered. Hartley smiled widely  
  
“I’ve never been very good at doing what I’m told, I’m afraid.” He pointed out. Cisco raised his eyebrows, hoisted Hartley into his arms, and started off down the corridor. Hartley laughed delightedly and wrapped his legs around Cisco’s waist   
  
“We can fix that.” Cisco snickered. 

* * *

  
The next day Eobard Thawne could be found fuming after a visit from Hartley, who had pulled his shirt up and giggled “Cisco _loves_ that spot. Funny, he loved it even more after I told him you’d enjoyed it. ” Was all he said before he sauntered back upstairs.  

The only thing he wasn't pleased about was the fact that he had had to wear the goddamn 'Han shot first' tee all day.

Still, the low neckline meant that he had a lot of fun grossing out Barry with the frankly ridiculous amount of hickeys he now had.

  
Hartley grinned like the cat who had got the cream _and_ the canary all day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bicho means bug literally, its used as an endearment meaning 'cute' so essentially Cisco is calling Hartley cutie.   
> Te amo means I love you,   
> Yo tambien means I love you too.


	21. Napping parties and other such joys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little peek into Cisco and Hartley's relationship- you'll want a dentist on speeddial.

Cisco was _loosing his fucking shit._   
  
He had gotten together with Hartley goddamn Rathaway. What the _shit?_ He had maybe (god he certainly hoped so) become lovers with Hartley, who was apparently not actually the reason the word dick started being used as an insult. Cisco had never really known how to react around Hartley, especially when they worked together for Wells, who he had realised very early on enjoyed _mercilessly_ hitting on a surprisingly blushy Hartley. Cisco didn’t really approve of it, especially because whenever Wells decreased the amount of space between them or played with Hartley’s tie or glasses in front of people, Hartley looked rather uncomfortable.   
  
Hartley was a walking contradiction. He liked to annoy the shit out of Cisco but as soon as Cisco looked even vaguely angry or raised his voice, he would scarper. That in itself should have told Cisco a lot about how he was brought up, but Cisco hadn’t been looking out for it, so he didn’t pay attention. Hartley acted like he didn’t care about anyone, but Cisco had walked in on multiple phone conversations with his sister, when Hartley could be found doing a stupid Russian accent to make her laugh, or telling a kid named ‘Jeremiah’ to ‘get your ass _back into school_ , you did not get a full ride scholarship for nothing’. It was infuriating, not being able to figure someone out.   
  
And there had been that one time when Hartley had had to go on a ‘honeypot’ mission. Wells had needed to find out how far behind them Mercury labs was, and surprisingly Hartley had volunteered. Wells had commented on how it ‘wasn’t exactly your area of expertise’, and Hartley had scoffed  
  
“Please, I’ve been able to work a room since I was four. Honeypotting was how my mother married my father.” He’d replied carelessly. Cisco’s eyebrows had soared, no wonder Hartley didn’t care for people, he’d lived in a household where the reason for it staying together was mutual gain in either riches or social standing. He’d been trained to think that everyone wanted something from him and if that wasn’t the _saddest_ thing Cisco had ever realised he’d burn his Han Shot First tee (if Hartley didn’t get to it first.) But somehow the efficiency with which he handled the task was still surprising, he had turned up to the event in a tux that showed off his slim body perfectly, Cisco had been so confused as to _why_ he was paying so much attention to this detail. It had only gotten worse from that point.   
  
Caitlin and Ronnie had given him a lift to the venue, both looking positively stunning, he had walked in to see Hartley without his glasses on, his hair artfully mussed and a sweet smile on his face. Cisco’s breath had hitched for a reason he had not quite understood. He watched and felt his blood boil as Harrison tugged Hartley closer to him, Hartley immediately responding warmly, a hand at Harrison’s back and laughing, attracting everybody with working eyes to him. Who knew that Hartley’s laugh was so musical? Cisco certainly didn’t.   
  
It just kept getting worse.  
  
Hartley drifted away from Harrison quickly, who watched with a possessive glance every few minutes as Hartley succeeded in charming every person in the room, chatting for a few minutes before being pulled to another group. Eventually he was pulled to the side by a man around Harrison’s age, with messy brown hair and dimples, Hartley glanced over his shoulder and nodded at Harrison, who smirked minutely, the man chatted with him for a few minutes before grabbing Hartley’s hand and leading him towards a back room. Caitlin had giggled then. Cisco asked why and she replied ‘You’re _so_ protective.’.  
  
He didn’t get it.  
  
Hartley had come back a few minutes later with a hickey just visible underneath his collar, but otherwise unruffled, he socialised for another half hour before walking back towards Harrison, who had quickly placed a hand on his waist, pulling him close, Hartley’s eyes had widened slightly, before he smiled lightly and made an escape, the rest of the group following a few minutes later.   
  
Cisco had wondered why he had felt so angry and sad when he’d watched Hartley’s little games play out. Harrison had laughed loudly as they’d left, spinning Hartley around   
  
“That was _amazing_ ,” He’d commented. Hartley shrugged  
  
“I’ve had practice.” was all he’d said.  
  
Cisco had pretended not to be jealous when he saw Hartley get into Harrison’s car. He’d had to look away when he saw Harrison lean over and start practically _eating_ Hartley’s neck.  
  
That was when Cisco had finally started paying attention to his coworker. And _fuck_ he’d regretted it until a few months ago. Hartley wasn’t _supposed_ to have _feelings_ , or _care_ , he wasn’t supposed to be 3D, he wasn’t supposed to try and hide that _stupid_ giddy smile when a project worked, or always stop to pet a dog on the street whenever he saw one, or look so _heartbroken_ when security had walked him through the building, catching Cisco’s eye with a pleading glance which he’d pretended not to notice.   
  
Then he’d gone.  
  
There were no more bitch fights, no more angry spanish insults, no more pairs of broken glasses in Hartley’s lab which now sat unused and empty. Harrison seemed both pleased and angry at the same time, for reasons which Cisco only now understood, he’d removed a threat, and lost his plaything. Cisco hadn’t really known how to feel when Hartley left, he was left with a lot more work to do, an angry floor five (as it turned out Hartley did most of their work for them, which explained the godawful amounts of overtime he’d been doing) and a feeling that he’d somehow lost something.   
  
But he’d gotten over the little…whatever the hell it was.  
  
Or so he’d thought.  
  
And then Hartley had sauntered back into their lives, dressed like evil Harry Potter and brandishing both sonic gloves and a sharp burning fury directed at both Harrison and himself. Cisco couldn’t really say he was surprised, despite there being no attempts on Hartley’s part to contact him, something which he now suspected had rather a lot to do with Harrison, he had not tried to talk to Hartley either. He’d cut him off. And he felt so guilty about that now, Hartley was a kid who came from an emotionally distant family, who’d been disowned so _young_ , who’d had his heart trampled by someone he’d given everything to and then his last resort, the man who he traded insults and equations with, hadn’t bothered to check on him once.   
  
On top of that was the whole ‘whoops I’m a metahuman only instead of super speed I’m in constant pain’ thing. He supposed the siren spell was the plus side.   
  
Still  
  
Hartley’d had a sucky life.   
  
Of course Cisco’s was suckier when he’d realised why all those weird ass glances and feelings in his chest had come back. Of all the people he had to fall for, it just had to be _Hartley_ _motherfucking_ _Rathaway_ , who had _no_ chill whatsoever, who was a Rogue and A Bad Person© (well, kind of? Maybe?), who had really pretty blue eyes and such an annoying smug smile which was just _so fucking cute_ sometimes.  
  
God he _hated_ it.   
  
Well, maybe he didn’t hate Hartley finally showing emotion around him, maybe he didn’t mind muttering rather inappropriate things to him in spanish while being extraordinarily glad no one but them spoke the language. He didn’t mind holding hands as the group of kids Hartley had found himself looking after dragged them around the city, he didn’t mind watching musicals with Hartley, nor did he mind the dramatic two man renditions of the shows they put on for the kids afterwards (Les Mis was a personal favourite, Hartley always sobbed through the second act and giggled his way through Cisco’s Inspector Javert) he especially didn’t mind seeing Hartley wearing his Han Shot First tee, a huge sweater and a scarf to hide the hickeys Cisco had been surprised to find he really loved getting. He didn’t mind going to Hartley’s little apartment on friday nights once Barry finally made him leave after one too many dreamy sighs.   
  
He opened the door and walked in, toeing off his converse and hanging his jacket on the handle of the door, eyeing the suspiciously quiet apartment with just an ounce of mild apprehension. The kids were all clearly having a lot of fun in the flat across the hall and he wasn’t sure if Hartley was over there until he saw that the bedroom door was half open, and there was a suspicious trail of blankets leading to the bed, Cisco walked into the room. There was a huge mound of blankets on the bed, and sticking out of the top of the mound was Hartley’s messy head of hair. Cisco had learnt early on that Hartley was often rather cold, and thus always wore his huge sweaters or at least three layers (and a beanie) if he could help it, so the masses of covers didn’t surprise him, nor did the napping at odd times, Hartley was like one of those mean cats every apartment block had, he took naps at the most inappropriate times and in the worst places usually (the top spot was always held by him deciding that the roof was a great place to sleep), he was very tactile (so much cuddling, soooo much cuddling- not that he was at all complaining) and he liked sitting in Cisco’s lap.  
  
With no warning.  
  
 _At all._  
  
Cisco smiled fondly at the mound, then clambered over to it, poking firmly.  
  
“Hnhh?” Was the response, Hartley stuck his head out of the covers, squinting blearily at Cisco, who smiled widely, his hair was all over the place, he looked relaxed (for once) and was sending him that small smile that meant _I_ really _fucking love you_. “Cisquito, you made it to my napping party.” He said completely seriously. Cisco giggled a little  
  
“And what does a napping party entail?” He asked, beginning to pet Hartley’s hair. Hartley hummed in response, pushing up into Cisco’s touch and letting his eyes flicker shut  
  
“We play sleeping lions and make out a lil’ bit.” He replied slowly. Cisco grinned and shed his jumper as Hartley shoved a blanket in his direction “I get more because I say so.”   
  
“You’re so tiny and mean.” Cisco grouched playfully. Hartley nodded  
  
“That too.” He murmured, tucking his head under Cisco’s chin and winding their legs together “I really missed cuddling someone.” He commented sleepily, lacing their fingers together  
  
“I really love cuddling someone.”   
  
“Someone?”  
  
“You.”   
  
“Good.”  
  
“You gonna say anything else?” Cisco asked expectantly. Hartley glanced up with a raised eyebrow  
  
“You already know I love you like Spock loves Kirk, also I’m a _great_ cuddler.” He replied, smirking a bit as Cisco’s eyes widened  
  
“You lied to me, you _are_ a trekkie!” He groaned. Hartley snickered sleepily “Also out of the two of us, I’m Spock.”  
  
“Are not.”  
  
“Am too.”  
  
“Are not.”  
  
“Am too.” It was at this point that Hartley sighed and leant up to press a quick kiss to Cisco’s lips, settling back down again instantly   
  
“Lets nap, ‘kay?” He suggested. Cisco nodded, curling into his boyfriend, who sighed in contentment “And I’m Spock.”  
  
Cisco frowned but agreed to let Hartley win, this time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review, like my trashy son, I need validation to live,


	22. Feels Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hartley's view on their relationship

Hartley was _losing his fucking shit._

He had gotten together with _Cisco Ramon_. He sang show tunes in the car with Cisco Ramon, he cuddled and _braided the hair_ of Cisco Ramon. He was kind of a lot in love with Cisco Ramon. Iris was, as she always had been, the _bane of his fucking existence_ ; always making innuendos about the relationship Hartley and Cisco were still adamantly denying existed. They didn’t feel like telling anyone but the kids just yet, it was still early days, despite it having been a good two months since they’d gotten together. Quickly they’d re-established the rhythm they’d always fallen into, then to their disgust, now to their delight.   
  
Cisco was a sweetheart. He loved with all of his heart and for once Hartley _knew_ he was cared for, there was no room for any doubt between the endless hand holding, cuddling and quick kisses. As he had previously mentioned, Hartley was naturally a very tactile person, he loved being held, playing with someones hair or having his played with (thank _god_ it was only Cisco that had figured out that if you ran your fingers through his hair a certain way, he’d bliss out and his knees would buckle. _God knows_ what Eobaby would have done with _that_ information), falling asleep with someone or just linking fingers. Contact was by far the best way to establish a relationship with him. And goddamn Cisco _loved_ it. Hartley had never ever felt so cared for, except maybe when his nanny had brought him a bar of dark chocolate for his fifth birthday (his parents had forgotten, _again_ ), she’d kissed his forehead and taught him how to conjugate verbs in the future tense in spanish, unfortunately his parents had fired her within the month.   
  
Cisco was better.  
  
Cisco held his hand as they walked down the street, kissed his cheek whenever he got the chance, he was openly proud and supportive of him and their relationship, something he’d never had before. Cisco held him close and made him laugh. Cisco held him so tightly that he thought all of his broken pieces would be stuck back together again. They weren't of course, but it made him believe that he could get back on his feet again, _actually_ believe it this time. Cisco made him blush, not in the aggressively dominant way Harrishithead had, Cisco didn’t need to prove anything, especially not to Hartley, so when he did murmur various propositions in spanish into Hartley’s ear, he felt confident replying with something even worse just to hear Cisco’s low snicker as Barry stared, utterly bewildered.   
  
But still, they kept it hidden, not out of shame, you understand, it was more of a game, see how long it would take the others to figure it out. So far Hartley had been proved right in his ‘They’re all as thick as soup’ hypothesis. Cisco had found that very funny, he  thought Hartley’s little monologues were funny, cute even. Or at least he had until Hartley had monologued something that had Cisco pinning him against the wall, pupils blown wide as Hartley smirked his way through the last few lines until Cisco had finally kissed him to shut him up. It was a fun game they had going on, see who could do the most inappropriate thing until either the other snapped or someone figured it out.   
  
So far only Iris had.  
  
Hartley always knew that she was the only one with enough _common sense_ to figure out her gang of geniuses (and their friend Eddie).   
  
Hartley loved their relationship with a burning passion, and he loved how they fitted together perfectly.   
  
“What’re you thinking about?” Cisco asked slowly. They were sprawled out on Hartley’s couch, Cisco leaning against the armrest, Hartley with his back to Cisco’s chest, he had been reading however now the book lay long abandoned among his doubts about his lover. Hartley let his head fall back onto Cisco’s shoulder  
  
“How much of a nerd you are.” He replied. Cisco snickered and dug his fingers into Hartley’s ribs in retaliation, making him shriek in protest “Oh my god- _OH MY GOD_ \- CISCO I SW- _FU_ -”  
  
“Something you’re trying to say, love?” Cisco teased. Hartley wound up breathless, pouting and glaring at his lover, who was laughing his head off “C’mon, babe, don’t be all grumpy.” Cisco wheedled as Hartley crossed his arms and sunk lower into the couch   
  
“ _Asshole._ ” He grouched. Cisco shrugged and wrapped his arms around Hartley’s middle, who sighed in contentment “Maybe you _aren’t_ so bad.” He mumbled. Cisco smiled   
  
“You’re not exactly terrible yourself.” He replied softly. They sat in silent contentment for a minute or so, before Hartley shifted so he was facing his lover  
  
“I was thinking about how lucky I got.” He mumbled, eyes focusing on how interesting the toggle of Cisco’s hoodie was, his lover then proceeded to rather prove and exceed his point, gently lifting his chin until their eyes met  
  
“Every time I wind up here with you, or even see you smile, I’m thinking exactly the same thing.” He replied firmly.   
  
“You could be the best thing that _ever_ happened to me.” Hartley murmured, eyes and hands flitting over Cisco, who smiled warmly, catching his hands in his and twining their fingers together, providing calm to his restlessness. Hartley sighed and leant forward, hiding his face in Cisco’s neck, smiling as he started singing an old lullaby Cisco's mother had sung to him when he was a kid, stumbling over the words a few times. “Love you.”  
  
“I love you too.”   
  
He’d never heard those words said honestly before.   
  
It felt good.  
  



	23. Eobard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or In which Eobard is a sneaky little shit and Sophie is apologetic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me I have content for you! And prepare for angst and fluff

A year passed and Cisco and Hartley continued to fall in love, Cisco moved in with Hartley, who couldn’t stand the thought of being so far away from his kids, they smiled more than they had in years. They told the others quickly, they reacted with more exasperation than anything else. Hartley felt content, safe and loved, Cisco felt adored, needed and loved, there were hiccups, there always were, sometimes Hartley felt he wasn’t enough and tried to push Cisco away, sometimes Cisco couldn’t deal with the intensity of being the Flash’s techie and the lover of someone who felt so intensely yet said nothing. They worked at it. They were happy.  
  
And then Eobard escaped, taking Eddie with him.   
  
“What the _fuck?”_ Hartley had growled. Cisco had made an affirmative noise as he stared at the screen, Caitlin was collapsed in a chair, head in her hands while Iris slowly rubbed her back, clutching at Barry. Hartley’s hands shook as he glanced over the empty cell, he couldn’t keep hold of his racing thoughts   
  
“We think he fazed through.” Joe put in helpfully. Hartley snapped around and glared  
  
“You _think?_ That cells lined with vibranium, Barry on speed, ecstasy and _crack_ couldn’t faze through that.” He snarled “So tell me, _Officer_ , what you _think_ happened.”   
  
“Hart.” Cisco murmured. Hartley deflated, running a hand over his face  
  
“Joe I’m sorry.” He stated, before running a hand through his hair and moving away from the group “I gotta…I gotta go, I can’t-”  
  
“Hartley,” Iris protested softly. He shook his head and continued moving backwards  
  
“I just can’t…he took…No.” He murmured, walking out.   
  
In hindsight, it was a dumb decision. But all he could think of was how stupid he’d been to think he was safe, how he’d let Jack down, how he put his family in danger, _again_. Then he got to his flat, a hand closed over his mouth and he didn’t think anything at all.   
  
__  
  
Cisco hadn’t heard anything from Hartley in two hours. And he was worried. To many peoples surprise Hartley was naturally a very contact reliant person, tactile or otherwise. He barely went a few hours without receiving a text from Hartley, usually commentary on peoples lives or a picture of something that reminded him of Cisco, it was very sweet, but now, when he hadn’t heard _anything_ from him, it was scary. Cisco tried to be rational as he opened the door to their flat, telling his heart to _calm_ _down_ , he was probably napping off the shock, but it was hard to distance yourself from the person you lived with, loved with, shared everything with. Something told him that Hartley wasn’t alright. Something had happened.   
  
He took a deep breath in and opened the door to chaos.  
  
Books _everywhere_ , papers lay scattered on the ground, sheet music fluttered around the fan and Cisco’s heart stopped. He remembered Barry and Joe telling him how Iris had been targeted by Thawne, how they had been told Eddie was gone. A photo of Hartley, Cisco and the kids was pinned to the wall, a knife through Hartley’s chest. Cisco swallowed  
  
“Hartley?” He called, frantically sprinting to their bedroom “ _Hart!”_   
  
Eobard had taken Hartley, god it was so _obvious_ , why hadn’t he realised? No, no, it wasn’t his fault. Thawne was a dickhead, he was a clever dickhead, but Cisco was _better_ , a better person and a better planner. And god knows he was just as ruthless when his loved ones were at risk. He pulled out his phone and dialled Barry’s number with shaking fingers “Bear? He’s got Hartley.” He whispered. In a second Barry stood by his side, eyes wide and shocked   
  
“No, _no_ ,” He mumbled, running through the house in vain “What’re we gonna do?” He asked Cisco.  
  
Cisco clenched his phone in his hand  
  
“We’re gonna find them, we’re gonna call Oliver and we’re gonna kill the bastard.”  
  
Meanwhile Hartley was waking up to see Eddie’s pale face opening and closing at him. Talking? Talking. He blinked blearily as the world swam in and out of focus, he realised he was in…a basement? A sewer? Sewer it was. Eddie was trying to tell him something, eyes darting wildly over his shoulder  
  
“Ah, sleeping beauty’s finally awake,” Cooed someone in his ear, tugging at his hair. Hartley’s head snapped up as he tried desperately to get away from that voice, _that voice, fuck, fuck, fuck-_  
  
“Mother _fucker!_ ” He cried as he was hauled up by his hair, Eddie protesting loudly. Eobard tutted at him  
  
“Language, Hartley.” He chided. Hartley wanted to scream, this man had taken his money, his job, his hearing, his mind, and his _child_. This man had _ruined_ him. This man had taken everything he was, twisted it and shoved it back inside him again, and now he was at his mercy. _Fuck_. Hartley decided to remain silent, this had won him points when he worked for the man so he was praying that it would keep him alive until Cisco figured out he was gone. _Cisco_. He might never see him again, he might never see the kids, fuck this could ruin _them_. He would have been angry in their last memory of him. No, _no_ , calm. You’ll get out alive if you can just keep it together   
  
“Hartley, I-” Eddie tried, quickly being cut off as Eobard threw something at his head  
  
“Hush, now, ancestor mine, I want to listen to my Hartley, since his words won’t work now.” Hartley’s eyes widened “Oh, you didn’t know? Grodd and I have always been awfully close.”   
  
Well shit.   
  
There goes plan A.   
  
Still, he was a genius, that meant he had a plan for every letter of the alphabet and every digit of Pi he could remember. Eobard grabbed his jaw, tilting his head up “Come now, my pretty piper,” He cooed “Use your words.”   
  
Hartley kept his face perfectly blank, although if he was honest he was seriously considering spitting into Eobard’s eye. “Abi in malam rem.” He said calmly. Eobard laughed coldly   
  
“Always so fiery, my Hart,” He replied. Eddie seemed rather disturbed, and Eobard reacted accordingly “Oh, dear Eddie, didn’t you know? Hartley and I were _fucking_ , before he went and screwed everything up.”   
  
Eddie glanced at Hartley, horrified. Hartley shrugged as best he could with his torso tied to a chair, he really wanted to mention how shitty Eobard had been, and detail how much _better_ Cisco was but considering this was the guy he was relying on for food and water and _not death_ , he would have to play along “I didn’t screw anything up.” He decided to go for, defensive with a hint of lingering hurt. Eobard apparently enjoyed the boost to his ego  
  
“Come now, my dear, you know you fucked it all up. We could have taken on the world.”   
  
_You could have taken viagra._   
  
Nope, couldn’t say _that_ either.   
  
“But you…you hurt me.” He mumbled, letting his eyes drop to the floor. _Move the fuck over, Dicaprio, I deserve an Oscar_ , Hartley thought to himself as Eddie’s eyes continued to emulate saucers.   
  
“It was necessary, my little Hart, I couldn’t have you messing up my design for the accelerator, and you got your kids out of it, did you not?”   
  
_No?_ He’d met his kids _months_ before he found out about the accelerator. Gideon clearly needed some fine tuning, or, alternatively, Eobard was just really fucking arrogant.   
  
Yeah, probably the latter.  
  
“You took him away, you _killed_ my kid.” He growled softly, and willed himself just to act, it was just a part in a play, he couldn’t break now. Eobard tilted his chin up again, softly this time to meet his eyes  
  
“Josh is happy now, he’s with God.” He said. Hartley kept his face perfectly still, but inside he was dancing on the grave of Eobard Thawne, who had just signed his death warrant.   
  
“I’m sorry.” Hartley whispered. Eobard frowned  
  
“As you should be, you’ve caused me a lot of trouble in the last few years.”  
  
“Not for that.” Hartley mumbled coyly, even if the actual Spell didn’t work, at least his appeal and lingering hold on Eobard would  
  
“For what then?”   
  
“For Harrison Wells, this may hurt,” With that he screamed, loud as he could, letting just a smidge of his power seep into it, Eobard leapt backwards, howling as he covered his ears, he glowered and growling, lifted one hand and smacked Hartley into unconsciousness.   
  
Hartley went down laughing, now everyone with a satellite system and a working radio knew exactly where he and Eddie were.  
  


* * *

  
  
Barry took one look at the huge sonic wave showing up on the screen, found the epicentre, picked up Oliver and _ran_. He arrived just in time to see Eddie scream at Eobard, who for some reason had a nosebleed (Oh, Hartley, _right_ ) and was still wearing eyeliner? Which didn’t suit him? Villains were _weird_ with their fashion sense. Barry didn’t make his presence known, but crept around the back of the sewer as Oliver circled around the other side, silently nocking an arrow. Eobard stiffly bragged for a minute or two, pausing to poke at Hartley with his boot before moving onto teasing Eddie about how he wouldn’t get the girl.   
  
Luckily for Barry the last time he’d checked the Newspaper Article of Supreme Destiny it had been when Iris, Eddie and Barry weren’t in a huge polyamourous mess of a relationship, currently the By-line read ‘Iris Westhallen.’ God only knew why future Iris decided to take onboard Cisco and Hartley’s nerdy ship name. Still, it worked, kind of.   
  
Back to the terrifying future.  
  
Cisco would have laughed at that.  
  
Hartley would have walked out of the room with a deadpan glare then posted it on twitter and tagged all of the Rogues.   
  
“And, Eddie, you don’t even get the _girl_.” Barry was ready to bust in with-  
  
“Yes, we’ve been over this.”  
  
Goddamn, Eddie, always stealing his fire. _Anyway_.   
  
Barry clipped on a pair of vibranium cuffs onto Eobard’s wrists and darted out of the way in time for Oliver to hit him with an arrow full of tranquillisers. Barry almost winced in sympathy as Eobard mumbled in shock, crumpling to the floor.   
  
“No, he gets the girl _and_ the boy.” Barry crowed delightedly, late but still in style. Eddie blinked, then grinned  
  
“I am so unbelievably glad to see you.” He stated, heaving a sigh of relief as Oliver began to undo the ropes. Hartley, previously thought unconscious shot up, tipping his chair over backwards in excitement  
  
“WE _GOT_ THE BASTARD!” He screeched even as he hit the floor. Barry giggled and zipped over to free him. Hartley slowly stood up, rubbing his wrists, Eddie leapt on him, hugging him close to his chest  
  
“Holy fuck that was amazing.” He praised. Hartley mumbled confusedly into Eddie’s shoulder, raising an eyebrow at Barry, who was laughing. “You were _so_ goddamn convincing.”   
  
Oh.   
  
_That_.  
  
“What happened?” Oliver asked suspiciously. Hartley shuffled as he was released  
  
“Eobard was like’ Eddie tried and failed at an evil laugh “Ah yes, my precious Piper, and Hartley was all’ Here he batted his eyelashes and Hartley wanted to die “Oh Eobard, I’m so _sorry_ , and Eobard was like, _huh_? And Hartley fucking _Siren_ _Screamed_ at him and then Eobard was like _bam!_ And then you guys showed up.”   
  
Hartley blinked at Eddie. Oliver and Barry glanced at him "How is the superheros turning up somehow the least exciting part of that story?" Barry asked blandly.

“It’s the adrenaline. Also, could you heroes do me the favour of ignoring me for a hot minute?” Hartley replied.  
  
Oliver frowned but turned around, Barry shrugged and glared at the unconscious villain and Eddie began excitedly recounting his kidnap to both of them. Hartley walked over to Eobard, smiled pleasantly at him, then stomped on his nose, hearing a satisfying crunch. “His name, you pig headed moron, was _Jack_.”   
  
Barry turned and didn’t smile, “Feeling better?”  
  
“Much. We can go now.”   
  
He couldn’t _wait_ to see Cisco.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abi in malam rem means go to hell in latin (please review i need validation to live)


	24. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Worry not my friends, there is a sequel on the way.

Cisco leapt on him as soon as he walked through the door, bloodied and tired but satisfied as Barry returned from delivering Eddie to a hospital (I’m getting a vasectomy, Barry, _no_ it doesn’t mean that I can’t still have sex with you and Iris), Eobard lay, heavily sedated in the pipeline, hands and legs cuffed together in a cell triple lined with vibranium, curtesy of Cisco being bored and anxious. Hartley had walked into the Cortex and been jumped, hands fluttering over his face and neck and chest and a whirlwind of words being spewed into existence as his lover confirmed he was still alive and whole   
  
“And Jesus you were just _gone_ , and I didn’t know what to do so I called Barry and then _Oliver_ came and has he gone back to Starling? Are you okay, did he hurt you, I _swear_ if he hurt you Imma _beat his ass_ and you look so tired when did that happen and-”  
  
“Paco, I’m safe, I’m alright, _breathe_ , you look so worried, why are you worried, Oliver went back to Felicity half an hour ago and Eobard didn’t hurt me, I mean I was _slightly_ unconscious but-”  
  
“ _Slightly unconscious?_ What? I’m gonna go down there and-”  
  
“Cisco I _can’t-_ ” They gave up on words as Cisco finally kissed Hartley, worried and terrified and loving, Hartley wrapped his arms around Cisco’s neck and clung on for dear life, he was _safe_ , Eobard would be gone within twenty-four hours if Eddie was being taken care of properly and Dr Stein was coming over to discuss the potential repercussions of the paradox ensuing. _They would be okay_. They moved apart and leant against each other, hearing Barry and Iris do much the same.   
  
“I didn’t think he would come after me, I’m sorry.” Hartley whispered.  
  
“ _I_ didn’t think he would escape. We can be sorry together.” He replied softly. Hartley smiled as they hugged, holding each other close, they might well recover from this, if all went well.  
  
___  
  
 _Nothing_ went well except Eddie’s vasectomy. At least he was alive and healthy, if totally drained and loopy from meds. Eobard howled as he fell to pieces, and for a few days it seemed all was well. Caitlin and Ronnie got married, Stein and Ronnie exchanging friendly if mildly inappropriate around Hartley (who’s mind had made a _mansion_ in the gutter) banter over the vows, Iris throwing confetti while clinging to Barry who was helping their blond and heroic boyfriend stay upright, everyone was laughing and they were safe and Cisco was on one knee and   
  
“Will you marry me?” He asked, Hartley _stopped_ ,   
  
“Say what?” He asked quickly. Cisco blushed  
  
“Will you, Hartley Rathaway, king of assholery and capable of the _best_ goddamn Roz from Monsters Inc impression, marry me, Cisco Ramon, king of inappropriate workwear and keeper of the Blu-ray Star Wars box set?”   
  
“We’ve been dating for a year at best.” Hartley mumbled, Cisco’s smile faltered  
  
“But we’ve _known_ each other for five years.” He pointed out. Hartley knelt down next to him  
  
“Are you sure you want _me?”_ He asked gently. Cisco nodded and grinned widely   
  
“I’ll _always_ want you.” He replied. “Now, marry me?” Hartley smiled brightly, throwing his arms around Cisco  
  
“ _Yes_ ,” He mumbled. Iris shrieked happily, as did Caitlin and Barry, who crowded around the pair, throwing their arms and congratulations around them. Stein hung back, frowning  
  
“Don’t you have a ring?” He asked slowly. Cisco floundered at Hartley’s slightly stunned look  
  
“I didn’t buy a ring.” He mumbled  
  
“I just got engaged.” Hartley mumbled “I just got _engaged!”_ He jumped on Cisco again, peppering his face with small kisses, Cisco laughed, wrapping an arm around his waist and marvelling at his tiny nerd of a…holy fuck, a fiancé.   
  
_“We just got engaged!”_ Cisco shrieked, then paused “Wait, wait, I got something…gimme a sec…and…here!” He pulled out a bag of haribo’s and rummaged for a second before pulling out a gummy ring “Here,” He placed the ring onto Hartley’s finger and grinned, kissing his palm  
  
“You great _nerd_.” He mumbled, hugging Cisco again. “I love you,”  
  
“Love you too, and you’re _way_ nerdier than me.”  
  
“Not true!”  
  
“You know all of the iconic Lord of the Rings scenes by heart-”  
  
“So do you.”  
  
“In _elvish_.” Hartley paused. Iris cackled.   
  
“Fair point, well made.”  
  
They were _happy_.  
  
And then a huge fucking black hole opened up over Central city.   
  
Because apparently Fate liked fucking them up the ass.   
  
There was chaos. Papers and buildings and people and entire flats were sucked up into the void, Barry was hurt. They lost Ronnie. There was no casket at the funeral because there wasn’t a body to bury, Caitlin lost everything all over again. There was always someone missing.   
  
There always would be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERES A SEQUEL.  
> DON'T KILL ME.  
> (also please review)

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what yoy think of this, and dear god I apologise in advance for the shit tsunami of Hartley Rathaway you will be getting because so help me god I just love writing him so much.


End file.
